As the World Crumbles from Dust
by It's a PaL
Summary: That feeling you get when you have no idea where you are anymore? That feeling you get when you have no idea what's happening to everything you know? That feeling you get when you realize you're powerless to do anything about it? There's only one thing I can do at this point: move on and try to survive in this dead world of mine... (A Platinum Nuzlocke)
1. Chapter One: Ashes to Ashes

Well, hello, readers. This is a nuzlocke story that I've been writing for a while, and I've been toying with the idea of putting it up on here... until now, that is! Below are the rules that I'm following for this run of Platinum Version. More chapters will be added soon.

1. If it faints, it dies-Box it immediately. Too bad, so sad.  
2. One catch per route-if it's a dupe, too friggin' bad, you've lost your catch for the route.  
3. Notepad Clause-Cannot use boxes except for storing dead Pokemon. (EXCEPTION: If there comes a point in-game where I cannot progress because of HM-HAX, I am allowed to catch an HM-slave for the sole purpose of game progression. If it is the only Pokemon left alive on my team at any point, I still lose.)  
4. Starter Clause-I cannot use a starter Pokemon. As soon as I catch my first Pokemon and grind it to Level 5, I permabox the starter.  
5. I cannot buy any items from any store until after I receive all eight badges.  
6. Game ends when I defeat the Elite Four.  
7. Full team wipe = Game Over  
8. Nickname all the things.

It's morning when I feel wind on my face. I don't really mind; mother probably opened the window after I went to sleep last night-it was pretty stuffy in here anyway. My bed is comfortable and warm and I don't want to get up. It's a feeling of security, wrapping yourself in blankets like a cocoon and balling up to stay warm.

There's a larger gust of wind that blows through the room. It whistles and moans and sighs and sends a shiver down my arms even though I'm wrapped up tight in my comforter. I feel it blow a lock of my hair around as I taste something... off about the air. It's grainy and tastes like soot. The wind has never tasted like this. There isn't any sort of volcanic activity that the people on the TV have been watching, so why would the air be so different than normal? With a quiet grunt, I slowly open my eyes and stare up toward the ceiling-

Wait... there's supposed to be a ceiling above my head, isn't there? A ceiling made of plaster and drywall and whatever else they make the walls out of, right? Not one made out of churning gray clouds and wind and-

A single raindrop splashes against my cheek. I wipe it off as I sit up in my bed and look around at my room-or, rather, what's left of it. Two of the walls are just gone like they never existed at all. It's just all clouds and wind and gray. The little bit of structure that remains behind me seemed utterly and totally ripped apart. I squint my eyes and turn around to look past my bed. Nothing behind me but the same churning, violent skyscape. Even as I look down to where we should see ground, there's nothing.

Not a mist, not a fog. There is nothing but the sky below me. How do I know? I watch as a loose bit of wood-maybe it's drywall, I have no idea which-blows off the side of what's left of my room and fall.

And it falls past where the ground should be. And it keeps falling until it's barely a speck against the gray around me. I imagine that it's still falling now, if that's even possible.

Why are there clouds everywhere? What happened to the land? How are we staying afloat on this chunk of rock? Why does it seem like we're not falling when we clearly should be?

Wait-could this whole thing have been caused by a hurricane that swept through? I don't remember seeing anything about storms coming from last night, and usually the people on the TV are good about predicting that sort of thing, right? But if that's the case, why does the air taste like that?

The more I think about it, the less I believe that it's a hurricane-something like that just floods the land, not tear up houses and leave them floating in the sky.

I unwrap myself from my chrysalis and place my feet gingerly onto the floor. The floorboards creak like they've been there for a hundred years. Strange that they're still strong enough to support my weight-I fear that the walls below us would have been ripped out just as easily as the ones up here.

And then it hits me-what about mother? Is she OK after all this?

I grab a shirt and throw it on just as the wind picks up once again. There's a sharp chill in the air as inhale the soot and dust. It dries out my mouth and I start coughing. Whatever's floating around, it's scratching at my lungs and my chest like tiny shards of glass. After I finish my bout of hacking, I brought my shirt up over my mouth to help keep the particles from shredding my throat.

Somehow the stairs are still standing despite everything else around me having been torn to shreds. I'm glad that I don't have to jump down to the main floor. The wood groans under my feet despite the fact it still feels sturdy. I hope the place doesn't collapse while I'm still inside-

My hand is clenching something. I don't realize this until right now. It's my necklace-the one father supposedly left for me. How I have it in my hand for so long without realizing, I have no idea. In fact, I have no idea how it left my drawer without my knowledge. Why is this thing even out? I remember putting this away years ago-after mother gave it to me and said that it was hidden away until she was ready for me to have it. Without even thinking, I loop it over my head and glance at it as it centers itself on my chest. It's nothing spectacular-a bit of some red crystal set into a small golden hexagon. I'm not sure why mother held onto it for so long at all, to be honest.

Now I walk down the stairs and find that the walls are not as resilient as the floor above betrays them to be. One of the walls has a massive gaping hole torn out of it. The nearby clouds-or are they off in the distance? I really can't tell-swirl and churn, agitated by something but unable to do anything about it.

I turn my head and stare as I see something standing in the corner. It's a human-that much I can see clearly. A gust of wind blows through the tear in the wall. I feel my hair blow in the sudden puff. The other figure doesn't move.

Something is wrong. Is this... stone? When did it get here? How did this happen?

A shaft of dull gray sunlight falls through the window-well, what's left of it. I know I can get a good look at it-even though I don't want to, even though I know who's going to stare right back at me.

I bite my tongue as I look up into her face.

She doesn't even look panicked.

Mother...?

Please... answer me...

***

Minutes pass. Hours pass. Days seem to fly by as I stand by this statue, slack-jawed and teary-eyed. She can't be, and yet... I rap my knuckles against her shoulder and it's solid rock. It stings, too. I see the skin peeling away from my hand and there's blood slowly seeping through the tears in the flesh.

Maybe it's just a dream, I tell myself. Some sort of sick and twisted night terror that I'll wake up from and have a good laugh at in the morning. Fingers crossed with one hand, I reach for the back of my leg with the other and pinch.

It hurts.

I laugh. It's half from disbelief, half from pure shock. At first, it's slow. Then it grows louder and faster and wilder till it bursts from my chest and it mixes flawlessly with a coughing fit that's been brewing for a while. The chuckling soon dies down and paves the way for tears. They race down my cheeks and onto the dusty floor. I can see where they hit the floor in the little bit of light that's left. My throat is hoarse and sore and knotted.

There's nobody else around here. I am alone on a floating rock in the wreckage of my home. It's just a vast wilderness of empty space and clouds and this dust that keeps floating in the air. My eyes are starting to get itchy from the tears-or maybe it's the stuff in the air too. If it hurts my lungs that bad, imagine what the stuff could do to my eyes if I didn't find a pair of goggles or something to protect them.

I slowly walk up the stairs, returning to the remnants of what used to be my room. My stomach is doing backflips and frontflips and cartwheels and any other sort of flips as it can possibly think of. I clutch at my head with one hand and my stomach with the other as I scream and cry as loud as I can. No one's around to tell me not to, so I just let loose.

My mirror somehow survived all of this craziness. I deflate as I see the reflection of a confused, frightened girl; white hair falls over my eyes and sticks to my face where tears trailed down, almost blending with my pale skin. I brush the bangs back behind my ears and wipe my eyes. I can see the dark purple of my eyes nearly bulging out of my head, I've been crying so much. Mother says that my eyes are the prettiest she's ever seen and everyone should know that they are mine.

There isn't anyone to appreciate them now except for me.

And then the thoughts. The horrible nagging thoughts that tell me that I can't survive here on a floating chunk of rock in the sky forever. That eventually I'll run out of food and water and I'll starve to death. That I'll misstep and I'll fall out of the sky and into whatever's left of the world below me. That I may somehow end up like mother, frozen in place and covered in stone. The tears start to flow again as I wonder how long I would fall if I jumped. I remember hearing talk that death from a bottomless pit comes from starvation, not from landing on the ground or anything. I shake my head as I close my eyes and grimace. There's no reason for me to think about any of this! None at all!

There's nothing more for me to do upstairs. I can't look at mother as I walk down to the main floor again. My chest is heaving as I force my head to turn away from her. In the movies, the hero's always able to revive their loved one with something like tears. Let me tell you that it doesn't work. As stupid and childish as I felt for trying, I still thought it might work-nothing else is anymore.

The front door is missing. This is the first time I've noticed it. Something outside catches my eye-it's a tiny bit of green that stands out against the churning and bubbling of the clouds. A few blades of grass are still growing next to the door frame. They're dusted in the same stuff that's in the air.

I take a step toward the grass. The wind picks up as if it's trying to push me back from this new discovery. For each step I try to take forward, the wind seems to double its efforts to keep me inside. It's almost as if the wind knows some secret I'm not supposed to learn. The dust is stinging at my eyes now. I really need to find a pair of goggles soon.

I leap forward and I land on my stomach. My arm stretches out and I can feel the grass in my hand. It's brittle like thin glass. I watch in shock as it snaps and shatters easily between my fingers. There's more of the dust on my fingers-I imagine that it's from the grass. I hope that it doesn't do anything bad to my skin.

There's suddenly a small patch of land out here. More of that green-gray dusty grass is here. I can see the faint outline of a dirt path-it looks the same as the one that leads from our house toward the center of the town.

How is this happening? Land can't just spontaneously appear out of thin air, can it? These clouds are not supposed to be fog, are they? Or are they something else entirely? I remember watching that bit of clutter fall off the face of the earth-why all of a sudden is there solid ground under my feet again?

My eyes are burning as I pick myself up off the ground and dust my shirt off. The soot-ash-dust-whatever-that-stuff-is clings to everything. I cough and sputter, trying to get it out of my mouth and throat. My mouth slacks as my eyes open. When I wipe away the tears, I'm dumbfounded as I watch pieces of the earth form around me and clump back together with my little patch. There's even more grass as I can see bits and pieces of a shattered wooden post form at the edge of the path.

Our mailbox. Doesn't do anyone any good now, considering as far as I know I'm the only one left alive.

On shaky legs, I take another step forward. The ground is solid under my feet. My shoes kick up more of the dust into the air. I can hear the grass shatter with each step. I step onto the dirt and stare as another small chunk of land bursts forth and continues the path forward. It's almost as if it's anticipating me, trying to catch me before I fall off this floating rock.

I wonder...

I follow the dirt path; turning where it turns and watching the winding trail lead me toward another. I can see my broken home when I look back. The road is still there-a tightrope stretched over a giant pit, except I can't fall off. It won't let me fall off.

Up ahead I can see the ground reforming and molding from the soot. There's another dense clump of land I can see when I shield my eyes. I can make out the shapes of assorted chunks of materials torn away from a frame-a wall. More holes in the wall that's slowly forming in the wreckage of my neighbor's house. The door is unlocked-I finally muster the courage to push it open and see what's left.

It's more of the same from what I remember from my own home. Parts of the wall are ripped open, revealing even more of this whirling angry cloudmass that surrounds me. The ceiling also has some holes in it-I can look up through them and see that the roof has also been torn away. Another gust of wind moans through the openings and sends a shiver down my spine.

And then I see her: Missus Kingsburg searching for food in her cupboard. She's got a recipe card in her hand, like she always does whenever I see her. She's got her hair back in that bun like always. The only thing out of the ordinary is that layer of dust and stone encasing her. She looks exactly like mother-completely at ease as she petrifies, her dead eyes scanning the scrap of paper wiggling in the breeze.

I feel sick to my stomach again as I make my way to the back of the home, never taking my eyes off of the statue. Wooden planks form from nothing and create the hardwood floor that Missus Kingsburg prizes so much. They lead me to the stairs as I pass by a strangely-calm scene in their kitchen. The air is still as I step over a broken table, almost as if she's trying to listen in and see if I scuff her broken floors with my dirty feet.

The stairs lead up to a broken bedroom. The bed is gone, lost over the side of the missing wall in the back. The other three are split wide open-almost like my room. In fact, I can see it off in the distance. I even spy mother through one of the holes in our wall. She doesn't wave back to me-I shouldn't expect her to.

Where's her son? Isn't he supposed to be here too? Unless he...

I turn and leave, not wanting to even entertain the thought. My mouth is dry once again-not from the dust this time. I say goodbye to Missus Kingsburg and leave her to her search. She doesn't respond. That's no way to treat a guest, Missus Kingsburg-isn't that what you always tell me?

I step out onto the snaking path and realize that the others in the town are just like mother and Missus Kingsburg. There's no other option for them-if there was another person still alive, I imagine that they could make the land rise around them and form paths and reshape the earth to something that resembles what we know. Or they could be trapped on a floating island like I was.

And then it hits me-I am utterly alone. Everyone else is turned into one of those statues. I spend the next eternity combing the negative space as it erupts back into the town I used to know.

Nice Mister Jenkins, I find him standing over the fence on the east part of town watching a sunrise that never comes. The Percival brothers, they're playing the world's longest game of Hide'n'Seek and waiting for their mother to finish counting. Mister McCoy, he's sleeping on his couch-I wonder what he did to upset Missus McCoy this time.

All of them so close. Why am I so alone in this sea of people?

It's now that I realize that there's nothing left for me here. I know that there's a path leading to Sandgem to the northeast of the town, but I've got nothing to help me get there now. Against my will, I make my way back toward my home. I have some packing to do.

My collar is stained with tears and airborne dirt. There's still a dresser with some of my clothes in it next to my bed. I figure that it might be a good time to pick something else to wear. Maybe something a bit darker to hide the mess I'm sure to make on myself as I continue forward. I settle on a few plain shirts along with my favorite jacket. There's also a black sweatshirt and a few pairs of jeans-and I can't forget my favorite hat, a black beanie that I won at a carnival long ago. It's worn but it reminds me of my old home, before all of... this.

I manage to stuff everything into my knapsack-clothes, a few pairs of sneakers, a bit of food, some water. I even fasten a sleeping bag on top of everything, much to my surprise. I lift my bag onto my shoulders and feel the weight dig in. There's that feeling of dread where I fear I haven't packed enough. I'm sure that if I come across any other supplies on my travels that no one would mind if I take a few morsels of food or some water. It's not like they need it anyway.

I walk down the stairs once again. Mother's been awfully quiet, almost like she's watching her programs on the TV. I hear the crackle of static for the first time. I don't know why I didn't notice it earlier. It's soothing, listening to something besides the wind.

Mother...

The word slips from my mouth effortlessly despite my burning throat and aching chest. I place my hand on one of hers. It's cold to the touch. More of the gray stuff clings to my sweaty palms. I'm trying to hold back tears but it's difficult.

You always say that I have to leave some day. Start a life on my own somewhere. Make you and Father proud. I guess... today's that day. I'm sorry-it's just that my throat is sore and I'm just as scared for me as you are. I... I don't want you worry while I'm gone, OK? I'll be fine. I'm gonna travel the land, see everything there is to see, take lots of pictures for you too. And the people I'm gonna meet-

My voice catches on the back of my throat. I almost choke on the words-they're jagged and bloody.

The people are gonna be nice to me, mother. I'm gonna do my best at whatever I do, and if I need any help I'm sure they'd be more than happy to offer help to a kid like me. I'll write to you every so often while I'm gone, OK? I'm sure you'd like to hear from me and how I'm doing out in the big world, right? I don't want you worrying about me-I want to take care of myself if I can.

My mouth is dry again. My eyes, however, are dripping with tears.

Goodbye, mother. I'm leaving. I hope to see you again...


	2. Chapter Two: Silence

The road peels off in opposite directions-the actual dirt road leading out of town, not the path that's forming a step ahead of me. It splits off toward the east and the west; the former path leads toward Sandgem Town, or probably what's left of it after all of this. I know I'm going to have to pass through eventually but there's one thing I want to see first.

I turn left to take a quick detour. The grass popping up from the ground is not as vibrant as the ones from in front of my house. The air feels dead out here, much more so than back in the town. My chest feels better mostly because there's not as much of the dust being blown around in the wind. The particles aren't as coarse against my fingers when I feel them brush against my skin. I wonder if I've hit some sort of eye in the storm. In any case, I need to see something before I leave.

There's a small bit of forest ahead of me. I know I'm getting close to where I need to go when the trees start to get thicker ahead of me. It's strange, though-the bark has turned into this porous stone, almost like it's a rocky sponge. The leaves are thin pieces of shale-the only reason I know is because of a friend: he's into fossils and rocks and brought me a fossilized root once. Strange that I remember it now of all times.

There's still more of the dust everywhere, though. It lingers in the air and sticks to the inside of your chest if you breathe it in. I remember pulling my shirt up over my mouth and nose. It worked out pretty well last time, so I try it again. Works even better than before. I really need to get a scarf or something so I don't go around looking like an idiot-

Oh, wait. No one else cares if I walk around like that. Still, it's uncomfortable.

The light isn't cutting through the treetops as much as I think it should. I'm finding it harder and harder to make my way through. I think back to an old story-two young children lost in the woods leave behind a trail of seeds to find their way home. I have no seeds on me, but I'm able to trace shapes in the dust that lingers on the bark. It works just as well. I know that no one's going to rub them away or make new ones to try and throw me off.

Wait... Why am I getting paranoid about this?

I come to a familiar clearing. The grass crunches underneath my shoes as I step out of the dirt floor of the forest. I'm half-expecting some sort of ray of light to illuminate where the water should be, but-

What happened to the water here? It's just gone! Like the lake never existed! It's just... It's just the edge of a crater I'm standing at now. I pluck a few blades of the grass from the reformed ground and sprinkle them over the edge of where land meets sky. It's mostly just to watch everything fall. There should be a bottom to this area, but either there's none or I'm supposed to climb down. No way in hell I'm going to do that.

A gust of wind rustles an overgrown patch of wild grass I've uncovered. It's strong enough to loosen the particles from the blades and allow them to bend toward me slightly. That's where they're supposed to be hiding, I recall. There should be some of them in the grass. Maybe if I take a step or two, I might attract their attention.

The grass is brittle and dry to the touch. It can bend slightly, but it can't move all that much when my arms brush past them. It's almost as if I'm some sort of giant that cuts down the trees with just a touch of my hand. Almost reminds me of when I would come out here and just mess around with him... Always pretending to be things we never could.

It's awfully quiet, even in the grass. I don't hear any sort of rustling of anything. Nothing trying to dig up from underneath the ground. Nothing trying to fly overhead. Not even anything peeking out from the forest-or what's left of it, anyway. Just dead silence except for the wind whistling mournfully. I shiver. Even through my jacket, I can't help but feel cold. I'm helpless and alone and scared and all sorts of other things that I shouldn't have to feel, let alone describe.

Five minutes... Or maybe five hours... Or maybe five days... I stand in the grass, dust dirtying my shirt and pants and exposed hands. Soon I could blend into the scenery. Given enough time, I might even just freeze and stare off into the end of the world forever. Mother would appreciate the company, as would Missus Kingsburg and everyone else back home.

But I can't stay here. I can't go back. Not so soon after leaving. It's supposed to be about me leaving and seeing the world, right? This crazy world where there's nothing but the wind and the sky and the dust...

I wipe my hands on whatever clean patch of fabric I can find. I really hope that I find a place where I can do laundry-maybe the next town over has a place where I can get it done. I need to make sure that I can find places to restock supplies whenever possible. I'm sure no one else will mind if I borrow some of their things. They may even let me spend the night if I ask nicely.

There's nothing more for me to do here. I need to get going. My pack is heavy-I need to make sure it's well-stocked just in case there are other survivors somewhere out there. It's for me. It's for them. It's for everyone. Just one thing left to do-find where they might be hiding.

I follow my path of traced shapes on stony bark. The wind flings a few specks away from the shapes but for the most part they're still there. Stars and triangles and squares are everywhere. I've got to amuse myself somehow with no one else to talk to. Somehow this seems to do the trick.

The edge of the world is in front of me once again. Time once again to blaze a new trail. Even as I take a step onto the air and feel the ground catch my foot before it falls, I wonder if there's absolutely any way to jump off. Probably a better way to go than mother, to be honest.. If only I could-

Why am I thinking about this again!? There's no reason for me to think about this sort of thing at all! From what I've seen so far, I wouldn't be able to anyway, so the best option would be for me to just keep moving forward and forget about that possibility at all!

I can see bits and pieces of the houses in the remains of my town. My home looks somehow worse from out here than in the square. Maybe it's because I'm trying to stay away from everything there. Maybe it's because the wind picked up and knocked some more stuff around while I was gone. Whatever the reason, I've got none to go back and investigate.

There's more of this overgrown foliage on this new path. Surely there will be some of them out here. I have no idea where they could all be hiding, whether in the nearby woods or deeper in the grass or farther along the path-well, when it comes up, that is. For now, it's just all a giant shade of gray. It's all melding together: the grass, the sky, the dust, and even me-it all blends together to create this unappealing uniform mess.

I start to cough once again as a particularly nasty cloud of the dust flies toward my face. Why has mother never bought me a scarf? She knows how cold the winters are here anyway, and now this shows up and makes it harder to breathe! Maybe I'll find something in the next town over... if it's not attached to a statue.

Still no sign of anything. No life anywhere except for me. The stale grasses are brushing up against my pants and sleeves. I'm glad that I decided to make sure I brought some longer, thicker clothes-when I look at my hands, I see they're all scratched up. Why does everything have to be more dangerous now that I'm all alone out here?

Despite the tingling in my shoulders from the pack and the stinging in my hands and the fatigue in my legs growing by the second, I keep forcing myself forward. Despite there being no path, there's nowhere else for me to go. The plants come up from nowhere with the ground just as I'm about to step off the edge every single time. Some of them break apart as the ground brings itself together, but I guess it's kind of to be expected now. It's sort of the only thing I can count on anymore.

The grass is shorter over here now. Not because it's breaking apart, but it's almost as if someone's been trying to take care of it. My heart races as I wonder if anyone is in fact alive in the next town. I should be getting close, after all. I've been walking for almost forever, it feels like. My feet are sore-I could use a break from this hiking.

There's a road that's forming before me. It's different from the one leading out of my old town. Not quite as dirty or dusty-or maybe the road's always been gray, not brown. I never bothered paying attention until now. Strange how the little details always get missed until they're all that's left.

And then the buildings. The remnants of houses and the shops and the school-they're coming into view. It's just like back at home except there's more of it. And the people out here-the statues are just like Missus Kingsburg and the Percival boys and the McCoys. They're all going about their business like nothing's wrong. Some of them are even smiling. Maybe they're talking about how nice the weather's supposed to be. I suddenly feel a bit nauseous.

I feel the urge to walk around despite the strength fading in my legs. How could no one see something as earth-shattering as this coming? What sort of disaster could destroy cities like this and turn people to stone in their tracks? A volcano maybe, but no one said that there was anything out of the ordinary with any of the mountains in the region. Mount Coronet hasn't erupted in tens of thousands of years, and yet... But then, why is everything floating in the sky and falling toward some sort of abyss?

There's a building that comes into view with the entire front peeled away. I can see kids running around in their bedroom-whether they're getting ready for bed or playing around as their breakfast is cooking, I can't tell. The other adults gather in a kitchen and are either cooking or reading some newspaper. It looks so tranquil-except for the wreckage that's blowing around in the wind and the stone that's formed around the bodies. Nothing I can do for them-time to move on.

The shop looks as if it's been ransacked. The windows are shattered and glass is scattered everywhere along with chunks of stone against the ground. Small impacts against the tile floor line up with gaps between items on the shelves. I manage to find a way through a broken window and not cut myself on the shards of glass embedded in the window frame. I find a bottle of medicine sitting on the counter. It looks different from what I remember-it's normally much more vibrant. I grab it and feel the cold stone against my fingertips. Unsure of what to make of this, I let it fall from my hand and watch as it slams against the ground and breaks apart. So much for quality products.

I browse around some more. They've got those capsules sitting around, but they're also made of stone. They're heavy and solid in my hand. I don't think I'd be able to use them in the state that they're in. Even if I could, I doubt I'd be able to carry a bunch of them around with me as I walk. There's just too much strain on my legs right now and adding more weight might be a bad idea.

And then I hear it-not the wind, but something else. It's faint, but it's calm and it's rhythmic and it's almost pulsing in and out. I hope my head isn't playing tricks on me. Just where is it coming from, though? It's distant enough to sound as if someone's calling me, but it's also close enough that my mind could just be messing with me. I whirl around and it gets louder, faster. My thoughts are racing-is there a survivor? How did they manage to make it like me?

Then I realize-it's my heart beating out of control. So much for anticipation.

I need to walk around again. If I stop, I'm going to sit and not move ever again. My footprints stand out against the dust on the paths in and around the town. Now the wind picks up again-I can hear that now. It's whistling through some of the holes in the buildings, otherwise it's a quiet sigh.

There's one more building I need to see. I'm not expecting anything to be different from what anything else that I've come across, but there's always that one tiny chance that someone survived. I don't care who might have-I just want someone to talk to, in all honesty. I never realized how quiet everything is when no one else is around.

I can see the doorway coming together now. The actual door has actually shattered-part of the problem with not having wooden or metal doors. There's glass everywhere. In the grass and on the floor that's coming up as I crush the shards beneath my feet. There's no sign of forced entry, but then again there's no one that could possibly enter except for me anyway, right?

And there, in the back of the dust-covered room, I see them-there's a group of figures standing around an enclosure, looking into it and staring at something. Three of them have their backs to me, but there's one standing on the other side. He's easily a head taller than everyone else. He's standing with his hands behind his back. There's a large jagged mustache on his face-it seems out of place with his otherwise clean haircut and lab coat hanging down to his ankles.

He's turned to stone. As smart and famous as he is, not even he could see what was coming.

And the others... When I look into their eyes, I see the excitement and the joy and the happiness that they were looking forward to having. I know exactly what they're supposed to do. It's something I'll be doing too, someday. I never expected it to be in this manner-in this world, alone, with nothing but the wind to talk to.

There's a boy frozen with a stony beret and a scarf around his neck. If only it wasn't so brittle and gray, I'd take it for myself.

There's a girl standing next to him. She's got shoulder-length straight hair and an infectious smile. Too bad it doesn't do her any good now.

I don't want to look at the last figure. I already know who it is. It's a boy. I recognize the crazy haircut he likes. He's got that bag that I bought for him on his birthday last year. I don't know why he has it with him, considering I don't ever remember him walking around with it. Regardless of why he's got it, it's just dead weight now.

His frozen hand is pointing toward something inside the pen. I follow it with my eyes and feel my stomach drop to my feet. There are three small statues in the enclosure. One is a turtle with a sapling growing from its shell. The next one is a chimp with huge ears and hands reaching up toward the outstretched finger. The last one is bird-like with a giant head; the beak's open like it's singing a happy song.

I turn away from the pen and back to the boy with the reaching arm. There's nothing I can do but cry. I hug him and I don't let go. I know that nothing's going to change, but it's just... it happened so fast. He never saw it coming. I never saw it coming. Tears stream down my face and splash against his shoulder.

Not you too...

There's a hole in the roof. I only notice it now because I see that the light's fading. It's getting dark outside and I'm not sure if I could continue on when I can't see where I'm going. I put down my pack and decide that as much as I don't want to stay here, I need to sleep somewhere. I think they'd like the company. Strange enough, I do too.

I pull out the sleeping bag and roll it onto the floor next to the enclosure. Even with those dead eyes staring at me, I feel strangely comfortable in their presence. It doesn't make falling asleep any easier, but at least it's better than sleeping in a stranger's bed without their permission. That just seems wrong. I'm not sure if he'd let me anyway. They say that he's got a temper when he's not working... Too bad I can't see if the rumors are true.

Hopefully I can sleep... The wind is singing through the various holes in the structure. It's sort of soothing even if it does sound like it belongs at a funeral. Kind of fitting that it sings here of all places. It's almost like a lullaby, something that mother would sing to me when I was younger. I forget the words as I close my eyes. There's a chill in the air as I hum. My eyelids are growing heavy now-whether it's from the music or because I'm actually tired, I don't know and I really don't care.

Goodnight, everyone. I'll see you in the morning...

***

There's something on my stomach when I wake up. It's not heavy but it's definitely not something that was there before. I open my eyes and find a gray lump on my sleeping bag. I can make out feathers and a beak.

It's a bird. An actual bird.

It's moving.

It turns its head and I see its eyes. Sparkling eyes not made of stone. The light hits them so I can see that they're actually alive. As quickly as I look into the bird's eyes, it turns away and begins to preen its feathers-almost as if it doesn't want me to notice it.

But I watch. And it lets me even if I think it doesn't want me to. And it looks up at me and lets me lift my head and shoulders off the ground. It tilts its head to the side and hops off my sleeping bag onto the ground. I shimmy out of my bag and get back down to its level. It stares back at me, head slightly off-center.

You remind me of a friend I have-I remember he looked at me the same way when we first met.

The bird doesn't make a sound. It just stares back with those beady black eyes.

He's... gone, though. He left me here alone without saying goodbye. Now I've got no one-but everyone's here. I'm sure you see that.

I'm met with silence once again, although the bird's head slowly corrects itself. It's looking straight at me now. I extend my arm out to it. I'm surprised when it-no, it's a he; I can tell by the larger splotch of white on the top of its head-gingerly places a talon in my palm, unsure of what to make of it. I feel the corner of my mouth tug upward, but he doesn't notice. A feather falls from his tail and floats to the ground, not even disturbing a speck of dust.

You want to come with me? I... Thank you. It means so much to me. You have no idea.

The bird shivers as a gust of wind blows into the deserted building. His feathers look a little ruffled but he perches on my shoulder and preens once again. He doesn't even notice when I begin to roll up the pack. He just grips tighter so he doesn't fall off.

I'm sure you and I will get along famously... Carter.


	3. Chapter Three: (Not) Alone

We're determined to leave this town behind. There's nothing for anyone here anymore. Staying at this place is almost like a death sentence. Nothing but the sound of the wind to comfort us, and even then it's nothing but a chill down my spine and goosebumps crawling along my arms. The dust still lingers here-it'll stay in the air long after we're gone.

Even as I pack everything away, Carter's still on my shoulder. His talons are gripping into my shoulder whenever I bend over or move around. It hurts at first, but I get used to it. Once the knapsack's on, he'll be off my shoulder anyway. Hopefully he'll be fine with gripping on a strap instead of my body. If not, I hope he's fine with flying-I'm not giving him a ride on my head.

The bird's quiet. Hasn't made a noise since I found him. He just preens his feathers while he sits on my shoulder. Maybe there's just nothing for him to sing about. As much as I appreciate him not getting in the way, it's kind of creepy having him here just worried about his looks. I want to see him fly around at least once. Maybe perch on top of one of the statues. Give my shoulder a bit of a break. He's dead set on staying here with me, though. I don't blame him-if I was him, I'd keep as close to the people I find as possible.

Carter pecks at some bread that I find in a cupboard in the back of the room. There's even a bit of peanut butter in an old jar. Still tastes good, so I make myself a quick bite to eat as well. I don't think he'll like anything else I've got packed away. Hope we can find something else to eat while we're off. Granola isn't going to sustain us forever.

It's really hard to leave the others behind, knowing they're so close to me but so far away. I place my hand on the older man. They still call him a professor. He's not going to do much studying or research anymore. Not that he knows or cares, but still. The others are still staring into the pit, excitement stretched across their frozen faces. I give each one a long hug, even though I've never even seen two of them before in my life. The last one I know. He gets another embrace, even though it's getting me covered in dust again and it's really awkward with his arm sticking out like that.

When the bird's done, he comes back to me and perches on my shoulder again. We need to leave now. No more delaying the inevitable.

There's a chill in the air when we step outside. Not so much the cold, although it's there-it's almost like the anticipation and hope and despair and fear and confusion of everything I've experienced lingers here. Carter seems to either be unfazed or apathetic, I can't tell which. Either way, he shakes the falling dust off his feathers and preens again. It's almost as if he's trying to impress me. I'm flattered that he's gussying himself up, but there's no need to. Just enough to keep the dust off of him, that's all I want to see.

There's the beach to the south. There's no water out there in the sky, but the sand is still here. It's gray and ashy, just like everything else. I scoop up a handful of particles and watch as the wind blows them into the void. It's sort of hypnotic, watching the stuff swirl around in the air before dropping off the face of the earth. Carter's even tempted to chase after it, but I keep him back. I'm not gonna lose him so soon after finding him.

We have to go to the north. It's the only way out of the town. There's no reason to go anywhere else now. Maybe there'll be some answers in the city. Or maybe there won't. Just gotta keep moving forward. We'll find out eventually.

Carter jumps off my shoulder and glides ahead. Lucky him-he can fly. I'm stuck on the ground kicking up dust and watching the grass stick on my shoe. They stick out of the top like tiny needles. I stop every so often and stomp them clean against the ground. There's always a cloud of dirt that billows up to my face and I cough. Better than blades of glassy grass in my feet.

The ground continues to keep up with me, one step ahead of the edge. There's patches of the taller weeds laced in with the grass and the path. There's a good chance that I might find something hiding in the overgrown stuff; then again, I remember finding nothing on the way to Sandgem. I don't even know where Carter's from, to be honest. Maybe I'll find out some day-not this one, though.

As I swing my foot forward through the grass, I hit something solid. I trip over it and slam down into the ground-at least the dirt makes for a softer landing than the streets of the last town. The stuff I kick up dries out my mouth. I start coughing and rubbing out my eyes. That stuff hurts if it gets in your system, believe me.

Through my watery eyes I see a face. It's a human-or, rather, _was_ a human. An eye is staring back at me; it's cold and lifeless and made of stone. I reach out to touch it, but as soon as I lay a finger on it, the whole thing collapses on itself. I cry out and bring my hand to my mouth. There are tears in my eyes as I bite down on my finger to stop myself from crying. It's a boy-a boy with friends and family and now he's just a pile of rubble in the middle of a path.

Carter comes back to see me on the ground like this. Judging by the vast emptiness ahead of us, I doubt he was able to find anything. I don't know how long I've been sitting like this, but I need to move. The wind is picking up and rustling through my hair. I'm sure I've got plenty of soot in it by now-I don't really care, to be honest.

Even with my pack, I manage to stand up and look to the path back into town. That boy's foot sticks up out of the grass and I didn't even see it until now. Just staring at it makes my shin throb with pain. I need to keep moving. Hopefully there won't be any more statues out here.

I take a step out toward the unknown when there's a rustling in the bushes behind me. I look back and see nothing but bent grass in the wind. Strange, though, that there wasn't a gust to go along with that. Carter's off like a jet as he shoots through the grass, blowing back everything to see what may not be there after all.

I wade through the brush and find the bird on the ground next to a ball of brown. There's a bit of the gray stuff mixed in with everything, but that's to be expected. I reach down and poke it with my finger.

It quivers at my touch.

The eyes open slowly but surely. They're beady and black, just like Carter's. Two giant buck-teeth catch the little glint of light and send it right in my eyes. I'm seeing spots when it shakes itself off and looks around the area. It yawns and turns its gaze toward the bird with sleepy eyes before staring back toward me. It's almost as if it's expecting us.

Carter hops forward along the ground before looking up at me. I don't know whether he wants me to let it join us or leave it behind. Too bad he hasn't said a thing since I found him-it'd be nice to have a conversation with him, even if he and I can't understand each other at all. Break up the silence, at least.

If he wants to come with us, that's fine. We could use the company-maybe he'll talk to me a bit more than you.

The ball of fur stands up. I can see tufts of brown hair billowing from its cheeks as it walks on shaky legs and rubs its face against my ankle. It almost looks like a stuffed animal-something I would collect back in my younger days. I feel nostalgic all of a sudden as a name I once knew pops into my head. It's perfect for the new guy.

Bert. He's a giant fluffy thing with a warm fuzzy name.

As quick as that sudden wave of comfort washes over me, I hear something I never would have expected otherwise-flapping wings. There are a lot of those birds that look like Carter that start flying out of the treetops: a massive shroud of feathers and beaks and squawking dives toward me and Carter and Bert. We've got no choice but to run away toward the edge. I'm just crossing my fingers and hoping that I don't lose Carter-he's flying ahead of us, scouting the way that doesn't yet exist. The fuzzy ball is in my arms; I don't ever remember picking him up, but I guess I don't trust him enough yet to run off without me yet.

They're still following us. I can feel the cawing under my skin, scratching at my nerves. I have no idea why they're all so mad at me, nor do I care to find out. Turns out there's more of these surviving creatures out in the wilds, but why them? Why are they so special and Missus Kingsburg and Mother not? Why am I so special? No time for that now-have to keep running otherwise they'll get me.

Even at a sprint with the adrenaline pumping through me, the ground keeps up with my pace. Fragments and chunks and splinters form at my feet and pave the way through the twisting path. The birds, however, are at an advantage, seeing as they're not stuck on the ground like I am. We can only run so fast and so far before my legs give out and I collapse again in a heap on the ground. There's nothing to do but hit the deck and wait for the things to descend.

And then the strangest thing happens-nothing. The birds disappear from behind me. When I look up, there's nothing else there but a single black feather right in front of my face. This is as big as one of Carter's wings, which is weird because his wings aren't all that big. It couldn't have come from one of those birds that were chasing us, could it? They were just as small as Carter and with white and gray feathers-not this inky plumage. Bert seems somewhat afraid of it, but I can't seem to put my finger on why he would be, or if he's just tired or in shock from the sprint. It's just a single feather, but where did it come from? Did the thing, whatever it was, manage to scare away everything, or is it all in my head?

As I pluck it from the ground, I notice that the grass stops before a paved road. There's a bunch of cracks in the path like it's been needing repairs for a long time now. With those birds gone all of a sudden, I can walk into this newly-ancient ruin without fear-at least from being attacked by them for the time being. I'm not too worried about them, though.

What's got me scared now are the hundreds of statues going about their daily business in the streets of the city. Men in suits with briefcases clenched in their stony fists-there are plenty of them out and about. Mothers looking after their children as they stare at the rubble of buildings that once stood tall against the sky-they're out there too. Kids like me, exploring the world around them and trying to figure out what they're gonna do with their lives-those hopes and dreams die out with this, whatever _this_ is.

And none of them ever think about this possibility-of standing in this moment forever with no one to look on but a confused and bewildered girl.

The walkways are still but my mind is playing tricks on me again. I can hear the dull roar of the crowds walking through, talking to one another, going about their daily business. Now they're just as frozen as that boy on the path to this place. A city full of statues-I swear someone's playing a trick on me at times and I half-expect people to burst out from the shadows and surprise me, but I know deep down that it's not going to happen like that.

I let Bert down to the ground and watch him run off toward a statue. He's got a bit of a spark in him despite his sleepy appearance: he's off and sniffing at everything he can reach. Not like he can catch a scent or anything off of stone, but he tries anyway. Carter flies through an open window on the ground floor of one of the wrecked buildings we come across. I don't know if he's searching for anything in particular or if he's looking for something shiny, but he comes back empty-handed anyway. Such is the way of the scavenge, I guess.

The market is destroyed. The high-rise apartments are mostly reduced to rubble and shards of glass and assorted pieces of destroyed furniture. Each room has a refrigerator that's completely destroyed any food that might be inside. It's disheartening to see the same destroyed contents of the rooms over and over again. That and my food supply is running low. We need to find some place to get more food, otherwise we're gonna starve. I need to think about keeping the number of creatures low so they don't eat everything too quickly.

My vision is going fuzzy now-there's a bit of fog or something that's blanketing this ghost town. The air is thick with that ashy stuff. I don't know how the others are able to walk around and deal with this stuff, it's so murky out now. They're not even covering their faces or mouths. All of these people are a lot stronger than I am if they're all standing out like this-means I have to be that much stronger for all of them.

We manage to get inside a building with at least one other floor above our heads. The doors are knocked off of their hinges and the windows are shattered, but at least the walls are still standing for the most part-even if there are a few holes. There's an intimidating statue of the world in front of a fountain in the lobby of this building. I recognize this place immediately-it's the national TV station, the center for all news that needs to be broadcast to the cities. There surely should be some sort of information as to what's happening here! However small and insignificant it may seem, anything that can help shed some light on this situation could give me some sense of direction!

I hop over the desk at the back of the lobby, saying hello to the secretary who's looking over the appointments for the day. None of them are gonna come today-they're all busy with something else important. Behind this desk is a giant filing cabinet with names and papers and stuff I can't even begin to read let alone understand. This isn't the right place. Hopefully there might still be some information up on the next floor.

These stairs are just as creaky as the ones back home. Carter doesn't need them, and Bert's light enough that he can just jump up without having to worry about them collapsing under his feet. There's dust on my shoes as I leave a set of footprints behind; no need to trace symbols here, I guess.

The second floor, however, is not nearly as neat and tidy as the lobby. Everything is in disarray here: the walls are knocked over, rubble blocks most of what paths are available for now, and another filing cabinet is knocked down on its side with papers being caught in the breeze and fluttering over the side. I can see a few people hunched over computers and slacking off on their work. If the boss comes to see them now, I think they'll all be fired.

I find a stack of papers pinned underneath a piece of jagged concrete on top of one of the desks that are still standing. Must've fallen from the floor above when it was crumbling away. Nice to see that it landed on an important-looking newspaper-there's all sorts of markings and circles and writing on it, probably from the remains of the man who sits at this desk. I can still see the pen clenched in his fist; it's just as solid as he is.

The paper, however, is still flimsy and normal to touch. I brush away the dust and flecks of stone on it and read some of the highlighted material. A lot of the terms I don't understand, but there is something in there about the mines in the eastern city of Oreburgh-something about trying to meet a higher demand for the coal they're known for. I'm not sure why coal is such a huge deal to this man, but there's nowhere else I can go and no other leads for me to go by. Seems as good of a place as any to start looking for something, I guess.

Carter lands on my shoulder and looks at me expectantly. I can see in his eyes that he's hungry. Bert even seems a bit sluggish now too-maybe he can go for some food. Now that I think about it, I could go for something to eat. I've got a bit of water still and some nuts I can open for them all. Hopefully they'll be OK with eating that stuff; it might be all they can eat for a while unless we're able to find someone's stash somewhere. I highly doubt it, though.

I'm not sure how long it will take for us to walk all the way to Oreburgh... Maybe a day when I include the trip through the tunnel in the mountain, but we've been walking around and searching through these ruins all day. We need to rest and eat and sleep. They're just as tired as I am from everything that's happened today.

Bert runs down the stairs and curls up in a ball near the counter. Carter perches on top of the secretary for the time being as I unpack my bedroll next to the furball. As soon as I make myself comfortable, the bird flies onto my stomach and cleans off his feathers. I don't know why he thinks that's a safe place for him, but I don't complain. Maybe he'll wise up one day and think that it's a bad idea. Oh well-as long as he sleeps, I guess it's OK...

***

How I'm able to sleep so calmly through the night in this new world, I'll never figure out.

The morning haze is still here when I wake up-I expect nothing less than this. Bert is now inside my bag, as is Carter. They're still sleeping; I'm tempted to let them sleep for a bit longer, but we need to move on. We've got a mine to check out in the next city over, and we have to get there by the end of the day-I don't think we can survive out in the wild after the attack on the last route. We might not have a guardian angel looking over our shoulders any more.

After a bit of a rude awakening, I manage to keep the two occupied with some food as I pack everything else away. When that's done, I treat myself to one of those energy bars that I remember finding at home. A bit of a sweet treat just because I'm not as alone anymore.

We're gone from this place. I know we're going to come back eventually, but just the shock of everything that we see will haunt me no matter how much I try to block it out. It'll still be creepy just walking through the wreckage again, even if I know what I'm expecting.

There's a patch of the razor-sharp grass forming at the eastern edge of the city. We must be getting close to wilderness again. When we see some of the bushes get thicker, we know we're not in the city anymore. Not even this disaster can get the cities to completely die off-at least, not yet.

Something jumps out from one of the bushes-it's a round insect with a button nose and two black discs for eyes. Curly antennae protrude from its head; its stubby arms stick out from underneath a scarlet shell that seems to repel the dust flitting around in the air. It's definitely not expecting the three of us to meet it face-to-face like this. The bug turns and hops away from us-

No, don't!

It's too late-before I even get a chance to dive and save it from the edge, it falls clear off the face of the world. As soon as I move, the ground shoots up from underneath, blocking any chance of it coming back up. There's absolutely nothing we can do for it now; all I can do is turn to Carter and Bert for support, but even they look just as confused and bewildered as I.

Make sure you guys stay behind me-I don't want you ending up like that poor thing...


	4. Chapter Four: The Caves

I'm still in shock as we continue forward. Just as quick as we meet that new creature, it's gone. Sure, we see others like it, but they're smarter than the first-sticking to the bushes and watching the three of us pass by. I can almost smell the fear wafting in the air, it's that thick. Nothing like those birds that were chasing us yesterday. That was scary... and close.

I don't know why, but I put the black feather over my ear like I would a pencil. Maybe it's for the convenience so I'm not carrying it around in my hand; maybe it's to remind us that there's someone-or something-watching out for us after all; heck, maybe it's just my longing for the time before all of this happened... when I didn't have to worry about making it to the next city before nightfall or trying to ration out food for three travelers. Bert's still a bit leery of me and stays a few steps behind, eyeing that feather like it's gonna jump off my head and bite him. I pay him no mind, but I'm curious to see why he's so afraid of that token.

Carter's still perched on my shoulder, but there's something different about him. He seems more focused on what we're finding as we walk. More grass under my feet-some of it is tall and wild and I have to brush it aside to make sure that I'm not gonna trip over something hidden. I did that once already, and I don't want to make that same mistake again.

There are more of those birds like Carter but they're not in an organized group like the last time. A single one sits up in the branches on part of a tree that's barely even there on the edge of the world. I can see the inside of the trunk out of the corner of my eye before it reforms the outer layers and the bark. Despite the fact I've been watching this sort of stuff happen for the past few days, I'm always amazed at how seamlessly everything comes together without shattering or splintering apart, even if it looks and feels unnatural.

A bit further on and we come across a small crater-like hole in the ground. It's really similar to the one back by home except it's not nearly as big around and I can see something shimmering at the bottom. Carter flies off my shoulder and tries to grab it, but he can't get a good grip-turns out there's a little bit of water at the bottom of the lakebed. But why is there some here and not in the lake at home? What makes this place different that it gets water?

More grass everywhere. There's no escaping that stuff no matter how hard we try-not like we're trying to get out of it anyway. At least I can see where we're coming from; our footprints are leaving a trail in the needle-like blades, crushing them to tiny splinters underneath my shoes and Bert's paws. He's actually looking kind of dusty again, almost like a walking pillow with buck teeth. When we get to Oreburgh, I may fluff him out a bit; he's looking a bit uncomfortable right now.

As we continue on, we come to the area where the dirt is overtaking the foliage. The path is getting rockier, a good sign that we're going in the right direction. There's a cave that we're looking for that will take us through to the other side of the hills-at least, that's what I_think_ we're looking for. It's only now that I realize that I've never been out this far to the east before. I hope that we're able to figure out where we're supposed to go.

I find a few more frozen bodies just lounging around. I should be shocked to find them like this-unfazed by the events around them, completely oblivious to their fate-but I guess having seen a bunch of people like this sort of... prepares me for that inevitable meeting with the dead. They've got some of those creatures by their side; some of them are just as stony as their human companions, and others are actually just as alive as Carter and Bert. There's more of a variety near the hills: a few birds, some creatures like Bert, a plant that's barely had time to sprout, some cats with hair standing on end. When I try to approach the living, they scatter back to the wilds behind me. Who or what decides which ones get to live and which ones are doomed?

Carter flies on ahead past the statues as if he's scouting ahead. There's nothing for him to look for, but he insists on going out anyway. I'm not sure if he knows that the world doesn't come to him, but I'd rather be able to fly around in the nothing than be bound to the ground that doesn't exist. I can't wait until Carter's able to support my weight and take me with him through the sky.

Something catches my eye now. There's an arch forming in the rocky cliffside next to us. I can see through it toward more of the swirling cloudscape below. It's definitely the cave that we should find if we want to cut through the path. I take a deep breath and step forward-the ceiling doesn't form over my head. Instead of stalactites, I'm treated to a view of the sky. So much for having to walk through an actual cave. Bert's still nervous as we enter through the arch. I wonder if he's a worrier by nature or if he's still trying to figure out what's happening around him. I know I'm still wondering the same thing.

More of the rocky wall forms up behind us as we try to push forward. It's still weird that there's light still coming through above us as everything around us should be getting darker. It's above us and in front of us and behind us despite the fact that this place should be a dark cave. It's kind of creepy, to be honest. I'd rather it be darker-at least it'd seem more appropriate here without all of the holes in the walls letting in the light.

I step into a puddle and feel my sock grow damp in my shoe. Looking down at it, I can't help but wonder where it could come from-there's no ceiling anywhere, nor has there been any sign of rain at all. How could this come out of nowhere-

A jet of water blasts my shoulder. I yelp as I turn to face a round duck with big eyes. It closes its bill as it wipes away some droplets that fall onto its yellow down before grabbing at its head with webbed hands. I watch it as it cocks its head to the side and stares back at me, trying to show me how innocent it looks. It knows I know better, though; I know it knows I know better.

I put down the pack on my back and charge at the duck. It doesn't flinch at all, even as the rocky walls shoot up around it. I'm standing over it and its only reaction is to stare back at me, almost daring me to strike it. Maybe Carter would be tempted into take a swipe at it; Bert is still hiding back by my pack, trying his best to stay out of any sort of confrontation. I'm not sure if he could take it on, even if he wanted to.

Even though my fists are balled and I'm ready to pound in this duck's head, I stop myself when I see a speck in the distance. What's shocking is that there's something in the distance at all-there hasn't been anything else to look for except the clouds and the sky, but there it is. At first, I think I'm seeing things; of course, after all the things we've seen so far, I shouldn't be surprised that this isn't just my mind playing tricks on me. It's the real deal for sure. It's too small to be a bird, and it's not getting any closer to where we're at. I don't know what it could be, but at the same time, I'm hoping with all my heart that it's what I think it might be.

We've got nowhere else to go, so we might as well just keep pushing toward that speck. It's off quite a ways away, but it's in the same direction we need to go in order to hit Oreburgh. There's no sense in keeping curiosity in the bag, especially when there's nothing else for us to look forward to except trying to survive out here.

The rocky ground continues to rise up and catch my feet before I step over the edge. I still think it's really eerie how this happens so quickly and without me even thinking about it, but I guess I'm getting used to it now. Carter's still flying ahead, trying to see what's out there-I think he wants to fly all the way out towards that speck before the rest of us, but he wouldn't be able to tell us what's there anyway.

Bert's at my feet, staying behind on my path so he doesn't fall off. At least he's a smart ball of fluff, which is more than we can say about that bug that ran straight off the edge of the world just to get away from us. It leads me to wonder once again about the creatures from earlier that were gathering around the statues outside the cave. It's almost like I was watching them mourn...

I look back on the path and stare at the rocky walls that are stretching above the arch. From where I'm standing, it almost looks like a cave again; it's only when I look up toward the ceiling that I notice that there's still a giant hole where I can see the sky. That duck is also there, just staring at me with its hands holding its head and daring me to go back after it. My clothes are still wet and I'm starting to shiver-we may just want to keep moving forward and worry about getting something set up for a camp when we get to the city. It'll be easier that way, for sure; plus I won't be tempted to try and push that duck over the edge.

That speck is getting closer and closer with each step, but this cave is big. I'm following along the wall so I know I'll get to the exit eventually, but it's just taking forever. There are a few dead ends that we go down. It's a good thing that all this craziness makes backtracking really easy, otherwise we would probably get lost.

After what seems like forever, we finally stumble upon another archway that forms up from the ground. That speck is much closer now, although I can't really see what it is yet. All I know is that Oreburgh is really close-I have to prepare myself for what's about to come when we arrive. I remember walking into the last city and nearly breaking down in front of everyone. I can't do that again; I have to look strong for everyone, even if I feel like I'm about to turn into a quivering wreck.

One thing is immediately different as we walk through the arch: the air is thick with that dust. It's mixed with something else, though-I can't quite put my finger on it, though. Maybe it's the taste of burning coal that lingers here; maybe it's something else. Regardless, I pull the front of my shirt over my mouth and breathe in before violently sputtering and coughing. I forgot that the fabric is still wet and inhale water droplets. Not a good thing to be breathing in, but neither is this dirty air. I guess it's the lesser of two evils.

The buildings are coming back to the ground as we take a lap around the shallow crater we arrive at. We must be at Oreburgh now, but this place looks even worse than the other city. Some of these structures are reduced to rubble at the foundation; still others manage to keep most of their integrity and stand a bit taller than the rest. There are a few buildings that stand out, at least on the perimeter of the crater-a structure with white marble columns in the front and half a sign flapping in the breeze with something about rare rocks found in the underground tunnels on display; another shop reduced to rubble and broken trinkets; an apartment complex like the ones in the big city that have people frozen in place as we stare on through the remains of window frames.

And there's more in the center of town: more destruction as the remains of what _was_ the city seem to pop up in a giant heap in the square. There's broken glass and pieces of shrapnel and splintered planks of wood everywhere-I have to carry Bert to make sure that he doesn't hurt himself on anything. Carter's still up on my shoulder; seems afraid to get off of his perch now for some reason. Don't know why, though.

There are miners out here among the ruins. They must be on their break; otherwise they wouldn't be here in town. Sad to see that they're now the very thing they chip away at every day. They've got their funny-looking hats and their big boots and their picks; everything is just as I imagine that it would be in a place like this. Even the dead seem to be having a good time, laughing at a silent joke that I'll never understand.

The sky's growing dark again. It must be getting closer to night, or what we used to call night. It's kind of hard to tell now, considering there hasn't been a break in the clouds above or below. We're gonna have to figure out how we're going to sleep out here tonight, unless we can find a bed in one of the buildings that isn't completely destroyed. It's better than trying to sleep on everything that's out here.

But that speck-it's much closer now than it was back by the arch. It's not really a speck so much as a ball out in the distance. If I didn't know any better, I could pluck it out of the sky and roll it around in my hands. As much fun as it would be to do that, I still can't tell what it is. Hopefully, though, it's exactly what I think and hope and pray it is. I don't know where else it could be right now, so-

There's a tugging at my sleeve. Bert's in my arms and he's almost asleep; Carter's still up on my shoulder but he's ruffling his feathers up a bit now. I turn and see that something is standing behind me: the duck. It's looking up at me with big eyes and continues to tug gently at my sweater. As much as I want to slam Bert over his head for what he did earlier to me, it looks almost as if he's sorry for his actions. The wind sends a chill down my arms-with that duck standing there, I'm suddenly reminded that I'm still wet.

You can come along, but you can't do that again, got it?

No response, but I get the feeling that he understands. Why are these creatures so quiet?

It's strange, but I'm not tired anymore. With the arrival of the duck, I want to go out to the... thing that's out there. I know we can get there if we keep walking, even if Bert and Carter are really fatigued. At least the duck has some energy left; he'll be able to protect me even if the others won't. I need to think of a name for him, but my mind's moving at a thousand thoughts a second and I can't slow it down enough to figure one out.

We're making a path out toward the mass in the distance. We have to leave behind the others just to see what this thing is. I'm surprised that I've been thinking about this possibility for a while, but now that I'm getting a better look at this as we're walking up to it, I really can see what it is.

It's the mine. Floating in the middle of open sky on a chunk of rock like us. But why is this here? We don't have time for questions, though-I'm more concerned about what's inside, if anything.

I can feel my eyelids growing heavy as we come up to the thinnest ring of land around the hovering rock. As much as I'm glad to see this place, there's something suspicious tugging at the back of my head at the same time. If there's anyone else alive in there, I imagine that they'd try and make a path back toward the town. There's nothing leading anywhere except my winding trail over the clouds. My heart sinks; I shouldn't expect anything different underground even though this place is waiting for me-for us.

It's just like the other cave except the floor is already under my feet, sloping down and leading to the depths of the earth. The gaping hole where the ceiling should be is growing smaller as we descend. I turn back and watch the duck stare at the half-formed walls of rock for a few seconds before tilting his head toward me. There's a little spot shimmering where he was staring just moments before. I'm confused when he repeats the process a little farther up. It doesn't register at first, but I feel myself flinch as he walks toward me.

It's strange, but there's still no ceiling, no upper level above our heads to shield us from that sky. It's only now that I see the tops of the walls growing as we walk past. Bert is still in my arms, looking around at the new environment springing up around us. Carter digs his talons into my shoulder, almost as if he's trying to keep me awake and focused on what we're searching for-anything that may still be alive and not trying to kill us.

So far, it's not looking good in terms of survivors. There are miners here hard at work, chipping away at the walls trying to make an honest day's pay. They've also got some creatures of their own, frozen in place as they attempt to chip away at the stone by hand. Some carts are on half-formed rails, ready to haul the coal to the surface toward a people that has no need for it. I pick up a piece of the rock in the cart and rub it with my fingertips. There are smudges on my hand now, but I don't really care all that much about staying clean at this point.

There's a path of footprints through the dust-covered floor of the cave like someone's wearing square boots. I feel my heart beating in my chest, practically leaping through my ribcage and landing on the dusty stone at my feet. Even through my fatigue, even through my overwhelming desire to lie down and fall asleep in this place, we press on. With any luck, there'll be someone else to share in our excitement.

We turn the corner to find something definitely not human. It's the size of a child and has gray skin and a small tail. There are bony ridges coming out of its head. It's sitting down on a boulder, playing with something in its hands and staring at it with huge red eyes. The trail of footprints stops at the rock. It doesn't seem to notice our presence-or it's choosing to ignore us for the time being.

A few feet away from it, I make out the form of another miner, but this one seems different from the rest. He's not working with the others, but merely supervising their progress. I see a pair of glasses on his face; the lenses aren't made of stone, but some other glassy gray substance. A thin piece of rock sticks out from the vest he's wearing-I think it's supposed to be a badge of some kind. I barely make out a name through the dust and the soot: Roark.

The creature on the boulder finally looks up at us. I only know this because Carter ruffles his feathers and chirps for the first time. Why he decides to speak now of all times, I'll never understand, but I'm relieved to hear that at least one of them can talk.

The bird, though, swoops in and tries to snatch whatever the other child-creature is holding. Bert is wriggling around in my arms, trying to get a better look at what's going on. The duck-who I still haven't thought of a name for yet-just watches and I swear I see him shake his head as Carter lands a lucky blow and grabs the trinket that caught his eye. He lands on my shoulder and I see a glint of red in his talon.

It's a small gem, maybe a ruby. Even in the limited light, I can see the color is deep.

The child-creature looks up at Carter, then up toward me with those big eyes. He looks like he's about to burst into tears because we took his trinket. I turn my attention to my bird and glare at him-he's proud of his treasure and isn't about to give it up without another fight.

Before anyone can do anything else, I feel the ground shaking beneath my feet. This doesn't happen in any of the places that we visit; could this have anything to do with the fact that this place is already here? No time to think, though-we have to get out.

As we run, I let Bert to the ground. He can hold his own on the rocky floor much better than a sea of broken glass and twisted metal any day. Carter's flying ahead-I'm not worried about him at all at this point, even as I'm holding onto his treasure. Even the child-thing is chasing after us as the ground collapses behind him, falling away to the sky below. I have no idea whether he's trying to save himself or his gem, but he's catching up fast.

It's strange, but in this moment, I finally figure out a name for the duck-Quentin. Crazy how being this close to death makes you think of the weirdest things. Hopefully this won't be a common thing we have to deal with, but at least it's more exciting that coming to an entire city of gravestones and ghosts and the skeletal remains of skyscrapers.

We pass by the miners and their fellow creatures. It's tough to say goodbye, especially as they plummet to who-knows-where, but that's what we have to do. The carts filled with coal follow them shortly after; looks like the city won't be getting any power for a while. It doesn't matter, though-there's no one around who could use it.

The five of us arrive at the path leading to this place and there's just enough time to watch the whole thing collapse on itself and fall through the air in a million pieces of jagged stone. Just like that, it's gone-everything inside and out was never there at all. It's empty space again. Maybe that's how this whole thing started off in the first place, but I can't be too sure. I'm too tired to even think clearly any more.

I can barely find the energy to unpack my bedroll, but somehow I find myself curled up underneath the insulated blankets. Carter and Bert and Quentin-I'm not sure if he likes his name, but I think it'll warm up to him in time-all gather around my stomach in a heap and leech body heat off of one another. The child-creature, however, is sitting by himself in the cold air. I'm not sure if he's mad at us for what Carter did earlier, but hopefully he can put that incident behind and focus on the future. Just like us, he's got nowhere else to go but forward now.


	5. Chapter Five: Blank

It's a strange feeling, waking up to a sleeping... no, a _dead_ world.

The cold air bites at my cheeks this morning. It's one thing to sleep indoors on a comfortable bed; it's another to stay outdoors and feel the icy nip on your face. I think it's a wake-up call that we all need, to be honest-we're alone now, and there's no one that can help us but ourselves. If we want to survive, we've got to stick together.

I shuffle around in my bag and pick my head up to see what's around us. Our little patch of land is floating in space, attached to a thin path heading back toward what remains of Oreburgh. The piles of scrap metal and chipped concrete, we can see them from where we're at. Hard to believe that people used to live in a building made from all that; now it's just rubble.

I look down to my stomach and see that Carter and Bert and Quentin are piled up next to me. They look content in their sleep even in the cold. The duck seems to even be holding Bert like I would a stuffed toy-I feel the corners of my mouth turn up for the first time in what feels like forever. As much trouble as he's worth, Quentin seems too adorable to stay mad at for a while.

Looking up toward the edge of the land, I see the latest addition to our group. The child-thing is sitting off to the side by himself, feet dangling over the edge and kicking the air like yesterday. He's staring down into the darkness below, red eyes concentrating on something off in the distance that he can't see. He's shivering-I wonder if he's been sitting there alone all night. I still feel sort of bad for what Carter did yesterday, but he's alive today, and I guess that's what matters now.

His ruby, for lack of a better word, is still in my hand. As much as Carter wants this, I know this guy wants it more. Without disturbing the others at my side, I wriggle my way out of the blankets and make my way over to the lone creature. He seems to scoot away from me as I draw near-I hope he doesn't jump off like the beetle from before, but he doesn't look like the sort that would do that.

He sees the gem between my fingers and his eyes widen. I can almost see a smile breaking out on his face as he gently plucks it from my hand with two thick fingers. It's almost like a wave of calm washes over him when he takes it back. Too bad I don't have any string-I can make a necklace or a bracelet for him so he's not likely to lose it, either by dropping it or from Carter stealing it again. Maybe if we find some later, I can do that for him.

The others are starting to wake themselves up now. Carter ruffles his feathers before stretching out his wings and looking around the island. Bert manages to get himself out of Quentin's grasp and promptly falls in a heap on the ground; his breathing is heavier than normal. The duck lazily rolls over and tilts his head up to look at the child-thing and me-with his eyes glazed over like that, I have no idea whether he's staring at us or through us.

I walk around the perimeter of our little floating disc. Strange how the mine doesn't come back when I go near; even with the child-creature out of the way, it's just a giant crater. I have no idea how or why it was preserved, nor why it crumbled to nothing, but I get the feeling that trying to stay here isn't going to give us any answers.

We come to the end of our path-there are cliffs that stretch higher than I can reach, and when I jump to try and grab the top, the rock only grows taller. I'm not going to risk climbing up just to see what's up there. There's no use sending Carter over, seeing as there's nothing on top of or over these walls. We have to go back the way we came; at least we know the way back now.

I pack away everything before bringing out a few morsels of food for everyone. I guess they're getting used to the smaller meals, even if I'm not yet. Carter, Bert, and Quentin all share some fruit and nuts, but the other one doesn't seem to want any of that. He does, however, try to steal my energy bar from my hand as I'm about to eat it. I didn't know that he wanted chocolate, but I guess in hindsight it was pretty obvious-he's acting sort of like a child, after all.

We have to go back through Oreburgh-another trip through that graveyard. Not like we have another option, though; the cliffs and the gaping hole that used to be the mine are all that's left in the other direction. Maybe when we get back through to the other big city we'll find another way around. Maybe we'll figure something else out about all of this, but I doubt it. I'm already having a hard time just thinking about everything that's been happening over the past few days, let alone trying to make sense out of it.

The people... They're all just staring at us as we make our way back through their ghost town. Something about them just seems to make them angrier than yesterday. They're judging us as we pass by-Who are these outsiders? What have they done to our mine? Why did they let this happen to us? Their voices, the voices of the dead, they're creeping into my head and making my skin crawl. I can feel my stomach rising into my throat and suddenly there's a puddle on the ground in front of me. We're careful to avoid that one as we move on.

I grab a bottle of water as we leave Oreburgh behind. The taste in my mouth is awful and I need something to wash it away before I make myself sick again. That's the last thing we need right now-one of us getting sick and having to hold everyone else back. Maybe it's just Oreburgh, though; I hope that this doesn't happen again when we get back to Jublife...

The cave back to the west is still standing. I steel myself and take a step onto the path back through the caverns. It's easy to find our way back; we only need to follow the path that's already here. Quite convenient, considering that also means we don't have to waste time trying to find our way through this place like last time. Every minute counts, especially with this later start. I know we'll be able to get back to the big city before the light fades-it's whether or not we'll have enough light to continue on before we're forced to camp once again.

This cave is a lot smaller than I remember it being. We manage to make great time through it, even if we already know where we're going. Quentin seems to remember that this is the place where he soaked me, and I can see the faintest of smiles emerging from his bill. I'm not sure if he's planning on pulling another stunt like that, but I make sure that I pick up the pace so he doesn't have the opportunity to.

We walk out of the cave and into the dusty air. We can see the outline of the city off in the distance in front of us. When I turn back toward the cave, I can see Oreburgh on the other side. Kind of neat that there are two cities so close together like that, but this is no time to be looking at the sights. There's something bigger that we need to take care of.

Our friends from before are still sitting right outside the mouth of the cave. Haven't moved an inch since we saw them last. I hope they know that they're just wasting their time sitting around all day out here instead of doing something productive.

I look back and see the child-thing lifting a piece of stone up in the air. It's only when I take a closer look at it that I find out that he's lifting one of the frozen plant creatures like a dumbbell. No question he's strong-stronger than I am, for sure. It'll come in handy later on, provided he doesn't fall off the edge like the bug from earlier.

There's an old story about a boy that was so strong that he saved his village by pushing away a volcano for weeks and weeks. Of course I don't believe in the story now that I'm older, but it's still something else from my past that surfaces at the strangest time. Just like with Quentin, it's in this weird state of inspiration that I find a name for the child-creature: Gilgamesh, the boy who could move mountains. It's got a nice ring to it-I think he understands the story too; his eyes seem to twinkle as I explain it to him.

Jublife's still a ways away, but at least we know where we're going this time. The air feels still-there's no wind or movement anywhere. The whole world is holding its breath, waiting to see what we do next. It's the literal calm before a storm that may never come. I can hear my breathing over everything else; it's a bit frightening that I'm so self-conscious when I'm the only one alive.

The grass is dead still. I'm afraid when Bert goes to check it out, but he always seems to come back without any scratches or anything nasty following him. Where did all of the other critters run off to? I remember there being a bunch around those frozen hikers, but now it's just as desolate and empty as the cities.

Carter flies off ahead, hoping to find something hidden somewhere in the grass. Bert hops along after him, trying to take some of the glory for himself. Quentin and Gilgamesh are still at my side; the duck is almost shaking his head at the two ahead of us, almost like a concerned parent. The stony child next to Quentin is too distracted by the gem in his hand to really notice what they're doing.

They find nothing ahead-I figure it's just too quiet out here. Something's got to happen, but it doesn't. It's just smooth sailing from the wilderness back to the big city. Hopefully those other creatures didn't fall off like that poor bug, but there's no sign that they were even here to begin with. I'm freaking out a bit on the inside, but I have to stay strong for the others even if they're not all that concerned about me.

At last, we make it back to the outskirts of the city. The five of us are standing at the edge of ruined skyscrapers and human statues once more. I feel something crunch underneath my shoe as I step forward-it's a shard of glass. Funny how I don't remember having to deal with broken glass last time, but Bert's practically climbing up my leg, trying to get me to hold onto him. I swear, I'm spoiling him by carrying him around everywhere.

There are still plenty of people going about their daily business. It's only when we step into the middle of the town square that we realize that there's still no wind, no other noises besides Quentin's shuffling feet and the sound of rustling wings from on my shoulder. I can hear the sweat running down in beads along my arms and my face-why am I so nervous all of a sudden? There's no one here but us; why should I be afraid?

I keep my head down as we head toward the northern edge of town. It's dumb, but all of a sudden I feel like we're being watched. Not like it'll help us if we try to blend in, considering we're the only moving things here. We stick out like sore thumbs as we make our way through. I make sure not to make eye contact with anyone we pass-it's just not natural to stare into the eyes of the dead, and I feel that they're the ones watching us anyway.

It's when we get to the very edge that I tell everyone to stay back behind me. I have the feeling that they already know this by now, but it never hurts to remind them. I place Bert back on the ground and let him follow me as I take a few steps out into the open air. The ground is quick to catch my feet before I fall; this sight even catches Gilgamesh's attention, tearing his gaze from his hands and toward me. I really need to tie that crystal up in a bracelet or something before he just walks over the edge without even realizing it.

This northern route is similar to the one off to the east-there are patches of tall grass sprouting up at my feet when we get to them; cliffs of cracked mud slope downwards to what I imagine should be a lakebed, except there's no water that I can see. Remnants of a wooden fence are strewn at the edge of the crater.

A rustling in the bush alerts us to something else. There are maybe a half-dozen birds like Carter staring at me from the ground when I turn to look at them. Instinctively, I take a few slow steps back but watch as they hop closer to us with each move. Without warning, one of them jumps up and flaps its wings and goes straight for my face. I whirl around and start sprinting toward the nothing, just trying to stay away from the attacking birds.

I feel a weight lift off my shoulder in the chaos-I turn back and Carter is mingled among the other birds, dodging and weaving and getting in lucky scratches every so often. Quentin's spouting streams of water, hitting some of the opposing birds square in the face and dropping them to the ground. Bert and Gilgamesh are making sure that they don't get back up. I have to say I'm surprised that even Bert packs a punch with those buck teeth of his. He looks too cuddly to actually do any damage, but those birds would tell me otherwise.

I look back to find an eruption of feathers and suddenly two birds take flight-not toward me, but back to the city. Each one of them is strong enough to take out one of those things and-

Carter looks different now: in the span of this battle, he's nearly doubled in size. He's got larger wings, a longer-and dare I say sharper?-beak and a sparkle in his eye, something that says he's ready for anything. A curled tuft of feathers loops up on his head, larger than the tiny thing he had before. What happened to cause him to grow so rapidly? He doesn't seem to be hurt or even fazed by the transformation, merely content. He spreads his wings out and takes to the sky, circling overhead like a silent protector; the others are staring up at this new Carter, dumbfounded and awestruck.

After taking a short break to collect ourselves, the bird lands on the ground next to me. Even in this larger form, he still preens his feathers the same as before; I still can't figure out who he's trying to impress. Gilgamesh eyes him carefully, making sure to keep that stone close to his body whenever he can. Quentin looks a bit dazed-I find a bit of blood mixed in with the yellow down atop his head, but he doesn't seem to notice. Even still, I think I can at least try to cover it up with something for a little while. I take the hat from off my head and place it on the duck; he doesn't seem to mind it all that much after feeling it with his fingers.

It's getting darker now; as much as I feel it'd be a good decision to turn back toward the big city, I don't want to have to be caught in the sea of blank faces again. Besides, those birds may have found company in one of the other routes and may be ready to counterattack. I'm sure we'd all rather try to find a place to sleep closer to a city than all the way out in the middle of the wilderness, but if that's what it comes to, then it's what we have to do.

The path suddenly becomes rockier as we continue to trek away from the city, almost like outside Oreburgh. Turns out there's another small cave here that we need to go through to keep walking north-no one's sitting outside trying to guard the place, which is nice considering I can't look into their faces without feeling sick.

This cave is just like the others: rocky floor, half-formed walls, no ceiling. Quentin wants to run ahead for some reason but I have to keep holding him back. Gilgamesh is acting sort of nervous as well; I can see him play with his little prize out of the corner of my eye, fat fingers tapping daintily on the ruby crystal. Bert just looks tired despite the few moments of rest before the cavern. Carter's still flying high above, looking for somewhere to land that hasn't been created yet.

Something doesn't feel right here. The ground feels solid but there's something else here that's putting me on edge. Quentin seems to pick up on this too.

The sound of stone splitting in half rings in our ears. Behind us, I see a dozen small boulders sprout arms-I know I'm not imagining this because Bert cowers behind my legs as he spots one of these rocks open a pair of pitch-black eyes and stare back at him. Another one opens its eyes, then another and another until it seems the entire cave is staring at us.

They start to tear away at the ground, lifting pieces of earth and readying them toward us. I'm not sticking around to see how this ends-my heart leaps to my mouth as a chunk of rock shoots past my head. I can see we're not welcome here after all.

Quentin sprays a few of them with some water, but it hardly seems to slow them down at all. The only good thing about his attacks is that now the rocky guardians seem to be having trouble gripping the stone floor. It doesn't matter, though-if we stick around, the whole cave will come alive and come down on top of us. I have no idea where to go, but as long as we keep moving we have a chance.

The path begins to slope up; we can feel the ground shaking when those walking rocks get closer. Quentin's probably the smartest one out of all of us, I think-after we finish the climb, the duck turns and begins to shoot more water at the slope, making the whole thing slippery. Good thinking on his part... at least until two of those rock-things try to hurl one another to the top of the slope. They throw one toward Gilgamesh, but he's ready for it: with a single kick, he manages to turn one into gravel. We could keep doing this, but there's just too many to try.

My chest is burning and I feel completely winded as the ground loses its rocky texture and flattens out. There's grass around us once again-we must be out of the cave. I don't think those things are planning on following us out; either that or they're having a bit of trouble trying to get out here to us. Maybe by now we're just not worth the chase, but we're just fine with that.

We turn away from the opening in the cave and toward the darkening horizon. The clouds above seem to be almost breaking apart; tufts of indigo fluff splitting off and giving us a glimpse of clear sky for the first time in what feels like forever. It's just a small hole, but I can see it clearly for a second-a single burning star, a point of light to guide the way. Just as quickly as we see it, it's gone again, hiding once more in the swirling mess of cloudstuffs.

I feel something crunch underneath my shoe. Without even thinking, I reach down and feel the chunks on the ground- just rubble and powdered rock. My hand brushes against another piece of stone, then another; with little light, I can't see anything all that well. It may be best to set up camp here and figure out where we're at now.

The sleeping bag is unfurled and I crawl inside. Bert tries to wriggle his way in there but can't because his head's too big. I snicker a little bit as the poor ball of fur curls up by my stomach. Carter finally lands after watching me unpack everything, taking a seat next to Bert and preening his feathers once more. Quentin lies next to the others, stretching his arms up before falling asleep with my hat still on his head-I guess he's taken a liking to it after all. Gilgamesh is sitting at my back, still staring at his little memento; even though he's not sleeping, I'm at least glad that he's keeping close to us.

As I'm laying on my side, I take notice that everything's becoming clearer. I'm not sure what it is about night-vision or how it works, but it's kinda cool that I'm getting used to this. I find that if I squint, I can make out shapes at the edge of the world-stony shapes near a small pile of rubble and dust.

They're flowers. Petrified flowers. Every single one a different shape and size, but they're all undeniably flowers. It's the last thing I see before I close my eyes and drift off to sleep. Sort of haunting to see that not even those are safe from all of this.


	6. Chapter Six: Bad Dream

It's hard to sleep when I'm dreaming of the dead. I see them all just staring at me, empty eyes piercing through my skin as they observe me, watch for any mistakes I make. They scream at me-non-words and wails of mourning and pain but their mouths never move. They're all just blank faces; never moving, never blinking, always watching, always screaming. And there are familiar faces among the blanks-that's what I call the faces I don't recognize, anyway-Missus Kingsburg, the Percival boys, the McCoys, even Roark who I never knew in life is staring through his stone-encrusted glasses.

It's always Mother's face that stands out among all others. I never hear her shouting or wailing or crying, because she knows I don't want to hear that; she knows I don't need to hear it any more. It's her silence, though-that dead gaze looking straight at me asking, begging: Why didn't you do anything to save me? How come you did nothing to prevent this? I try to tell her over the screaming of the blanks, but she either can't hear me or she doesn't want to. Before I know it, I'm falling. Falling faster than I think is possible, dropping into nothing and passing the blanks-they're falling with me, falling slower than me, rising past me to leave me to my fate.

There's something down in the darkness-something dark and glowing, something comforting and sinister. It's calling to me, beckoning for me to join it. I don't want to go there, but there's nothing I can do about the falling. I hear the screaming above me, the wind in my ears, and now laughter from below. It's quiet, but it's distinct; raspy and aged but timeless nonetheless. Whatever this thing is that wants me, I can't resist it for much longer-

I bolt up from the ground, brow dripping with cold sweat. My lungs are grabbing at any scrap of air they can get, even if I end up choking a bit on the taste of the dust and stone particles floating around. It's dark but I can still make out the shapes of the frozen flowers at the edge of the land. The clouds still swirl around over our heads, same as they always do.

What happened to this place?

As I wake, I realize that Gilgamesh is no longer sitting at my back. My breathing grows heavier and faster until I'm gasping for air and only taking in ashes and only realize it when I burst out in a coughing fit. Then I feel something on my shoulder, something comforting-it feels like a hand but there's a lump where the palm should be. It's him after all. I turn and stare into those red eyes, even though it's dark out and I can barely make out the color anyway.

As soon as I notice him, he takes his hand off my shoulder and lays down on the ground closer to the others. I breathe a sigh, not as extreme as relief but something more like content or appeasement, as I lay back down near the gnarled flowerbeds. Something clatters on the ground next to me and I wince in surprise. My fingers reach for the clattering object and I feel something jagged but smooth. When I bring it close, I can see what it is: Gilgamesh's gem. Why he made up his mind to give it to me, I'll never know, but I remember closing my eyes with this clenched in my fist, a single tear streaking down my cheek.

***

It's obvious to all of us that we're running out of food and water. Bert and Carter are eating the last bit of trail mix-that bird has an appetite after his little transformation, his stomach must be three times larger or something like that now-and Gilgamesh and Quentin and I are sharing pieces of the energy bars to make sure that we're getting something to eat. If the need be, we can attempt to venture back through the cave with the rock-beasts to try and get some water, but I'm not one to risk everything for some water I'd have to purify anyway.

While we're here at the edge of the world, we might as well continue searching around the place. Where we step, we find more of the stone flowers of all shapes and... I can't say that we find that great of a variety in color. I manage to finally pluck one from the ground, only to have Gilgamesh accidentally crush the petals between his fingers when he tries to take it from my hand. I swear he doesn't know his own strength sometimes.

But the ground-it's not nearly as compact as near Oreburgh. In fact, I may just be imaging this, but it seems as if we're walking on moist soil. Quickly, I look to the ground to check and kneel to brush away the dust and flowers-why are there so many flowers here anyway?-and I feel not stone but something far grittier and darker.

It's dirt-never before have I been so happy to see dirt of all things. Bert comes over to see what I'm so excited about and sniffs around the patch of fresh soil I'm holding in my hands. I don't think I've ever seen him come out on his own and check out something new or unknown; maybe it's because the soil isn't all that dangerous, or maybe it's because I'm holding it out to him and he knows that I'm able to keep him safe.

I scoop once more into the ground, then again and again until my hand pushes through the soil and catches nothing but air. I look down to where my arm reaches the underside of the world and feel my stomach jump up to my throat when I see that the land doesn't form back around this hole.

Well, it might, but we can't really go back and check now without endangering ourselves again. Better not think about it any longer-the more I worry about the situation at hand, the less comfortable I feel about everything out here so far away from home... Just the thought of the world as a cold, empty husk... It goes no deeper than the surface, the reconstruction of the world.

I'm not sure what to expect in a place like this, a graveyard of flowers and trees, but I think we're all surprised to find a few collapsed houses among the fields. Strange there aren't any figures in any of the wreckage we search through-either the people somehow knew what was coming, or... I shudder to think that their lives could be crushed that easily and that quickly, but there's no other evidence suggesting any other reason.

And then we come across something stranger still-a sorry excuse for a skyscraper in this meadow. What it's doing here, we have no idea. Even more surprising is that it seems nearly untouched by everything else around it, almost as if someone or something had brought it down from the sky moments ago. Gilgamesh makes quick work of the door, nearly breaking the metal slab off of its hinges.

Inside this place, though, is a different story. The decay is almost immediate-wood panels are rotting and falling apart, pieces of stone and what were presumably marble countertops lie strewn about the area, leaving holes in the ground that don't patch themselves up when I step near. We're careful where we step, especially Bert considering he's the smallest out of all of us and he could potentially fall through.

Stairs leading to a second level are back in a corner of the building. We hear them groaning under our combined weight, straining to hold us all as we ascend. Lucky for us, they hold together and we reach the second floor. Carter's flying overhead, keeping to himself as usual and watching out over the horizon for anything at all; Quentin, Gilgamesh, and Bert are all standing at my ankles, waiting to see what else lies here in these ruins.

As we watch the floor reform at our feet, we come across splinters of wood stained with something dark and sticky. At first, I'm shocked to see Bert sniffing away at the stuff-even more so when he starts licking it and doesn't stop. Gilgamesh and Quentin soon join in, picking up the mess between their fingers and licking it out of their fur and off of their skin. I can even see out of the corner of my eye Carter swooping down and trying to figure it out. Curious myself, I dip my finger in the goop and taste it. The sweetness of the liquid runs down my throat-it's something I recognize, but I can't quite put my finger on the flavor.

The goop leads to a fallen barrel filled with small blue marble-like objects. When the others look up at them, they seem to be overjoyed and immediately run over to them and begin to devour the blue globes. I get a good look at them and recognize them for what they are in the bit of light coming in through one of the windows-Oran berries. Mother used to plant those in the garden...

Before I could even begin to think about what was, I see something move out of the corner of my eye. The berries in the barrel are moving on their own-how in the world does this happen!? The others watch as a smear of blue slowly rises from the berries, dripping with juice and the flesh of fruit attached to its skin. The thing we're all most surprised about is the fact that whatever this thing is, it has wings. Tiny as they may be, whatever it is, it's flying and it's buzzing and it doesn't seem too please to see us.

It shoots out of the wooden cask, startling us all as it buzzes around in the air, spraying juices everywhere in an attempt to clean itself off. I'm not sure if Quentin is trying to help this creature out or if he's scared of it or he's looking for a laugh, but he unleashes a quick stream of water, dousing the poor thing. When it's dry, we call all see what it really is-some sort of insect with three blocky hexagonal faces and an orange smudge in the middle of the cluster.

I know what this poor insect is-she's all alone out here, which is strange enough as it is. Perhaps the others left without her, or she scouted off on her own and found the barrel with these berries in them. I thought these insects were extremely territorial, especially with their newborn females... Why would they just abandon one of their own out here all alone?

The insect doesn't seem to mind; in fact, she's trying to already get back at Quentin for his little stunt. The duck, though, seems to not even notice and brushes the flying menace aside when she goes after the cap. Bert's too busy eating a few of the berries to care about the incessant buzzing above him, and Carter's keeping a look out for something, anything out there that we may find. The only one actually intimidated by this racket is Gilgamesh-he's clinging to my side with terror in his eyes, never taking his sight off of the buzzing menace that's paying him no mind.

I don't think we're welcome here anymore, not that we ever were invited in the first place. This bug is clearly not in the mood for us here, so we feel that it's time to move on. Before we head out, I manage to grab a handful of the berries before she notices. I know this won't hold us over forever, but maybe if we find a place to settle down for a bit, I can plant a few and grow them so we've got more food between all of us.

Then I realize-there's nowhere to settle except the open air.

Still, food is food, and it's good enough for maybe a day or two. Hopefully we'll find something else that will help us later. Regardless, I motion to the others, still sticky with juice dripping down their faces, that we're leaving. As much as they don't want to go, they trudge behind, leaving that little bug by herself again with all the food in the world.

The four of us proceed down the groaning stairs, back into the darkening room. If there's nothing else for us here, we may as well continue onward-nothing is stopping us now except for us. We only need to take another step out to continue.

We leave the flowers behind to soak up the sunlight, even if it won't do them any good in the long run. The things we come across in our travels-wondrous, terrible things that should never exist but still they do-are nothing short of mind-boggling. I don't know how we've been able to keep moving forward, especially after seeing every new frozen detail in this world, but somehow we keep placing one foot in front of the other, watching the shell form in front of us as we expect to fall off. It's something we should be used to by now, and yet...

Carter's still flying above, circling over the open building where the berries are kept. I know he's thinking about swooping down for food, which might not be a bad idea considering he'd be able to follow after us and continue taking those berries. The problem is that bug-sure, she's alone now, but if she were to gather reinforcements then Carter wouldn't stand a chance. It's something I know I'm not willing to risk-whether he feels the same is a different matter.

After a while, the grasses outside of town appear unkempt and wild once again. As cautious as I'd like to be, Gilgamesh and Quentin and Bert are running around in the brush behind me, careful to mind the edge. Most surprising, there's a small river running parallel to the path-there's actually water flowing over the edge and creeping forward bit by bit as I continue to pave the way.

The waterway branches off as I come to the foundation of a small house in the middle of a clearing in the brush. Much like the tall building back in the town with the flowers, we have no idea why it's out here in the middle of the wilderness, but it almost seems good enough to settle down in for a while. With nowhere else to go for now, we walk around until we find the door. Strange enough, it's locked-a few shots from Gilgamesh and the poor thing flies open. I'd feel worse about breaking and entering if we weren't visiting the homes of statues.

Inside, though, we find that this place isn't a house, at least not in the normal sense. There are papers scattered across tables, filled with scribbles and figures that would take lifetimes to make heads or tails of. Diagrams of bizarre machines and all sorts of other stuff are pinned to the walls-

And there, sitting on a couch in the back of one of the rooms, is a pair of statues, a young woman and an older man. They seem somehow different than the others-in their faces, we can see something like apprehension or worry. We've never seen people with that sort of concern before; for some reason, my mind begins to kick into gear and I begin to think of reasons why they would feel this way. Could they perhaps have known about what was to come?

More of these papers are just thrown around, being picked up and blown across the room by the slight breeze in here. I pluck a sheet out of the air and quickly scan it-it mentions something about the construction of a second base in a place called Eterna. Sure, I've heard of it, but I've never been there before. As to what this base could be, I have no idea, but the thought of having a sort of base with protection and food is enough to force us to continue.

The others, though-they're all spooked by this place. The air, despite the tiniest puffs of wind blowing through, seems dead. The dust lingers in the air, never settling down on anything. I can see Bert's eyes beginning to water from merely standing in here.

There's nothing for us here. We need to leave these people. I make sure to shut the door as best as I can before we leave, but it's hard to do that when Gilgamesh's fists make so many dents in the metal.

The others, they run back into the grasses, content on searching the area or taking their minds off of what they just saw. I don't blame them at all-I'd try and do the same thing after witnessing everything I've seen so far, but it just keeps following us wherever we go... There's nowhere to hide from any of these statues, these people, these dead...

Suddenly, something squeaks from the grass-I turn to look and I see Bert staring at a white creature with fur and a bushy tail. Strange that I can see sparks of electricity running up and down the creature's body-how does it do that? Is that a side-effect of everything that's happened? I've never seen anything like that before!

Bert, of course, looks extremely fearful, as does Quentin for once, but Gilgamesh steps in front of the poor furball and stares down this new entity. In an instant, the white fluffball leaps into the air, still crackling with electricity the entire time before landing square on Gilgamesh's head. With a flick of his wrist, the child-thing grabs the rodent off of his head and slams it against the ground. It's badly injured from the blow, but so is Gilgamesh-he's cringing in pain from where the white blur landed on him, and I can see a few small burns from where sparks must have landed on his skin.

Quentin, as calm and collected as he usually is, seems disturbed by these events and comes back toward my side, doing his best to keep away from the electricity. Carter, as great of vision as I imagine he has up there, isn't able to see what's going on; either that or he knows better than to get close to that thing. I'm not sure why, exactly, but that white furball keeps moving closer toward Gilgamesh-it's not like a cute thing like that could really hurt something as tough as Gilgamesh, could it?

And then, from out of nowhere, something jumps out from the grass and rams into the white creature. We can't make out what it is, it's moving so fast, but it chases after our attacker as it skids along the dusty ground toward the edge where the land meets the creek. Whatever this thing is, it stops right in front of the rodent-we can see it now: it's got brown fur and a long flat tail, but we have no idea where it came from. Without missing a beat, it bends down and picks this white creature up-

No warning-a flash of light, the sound of crackling sparks fills the air. The rest of us shield our eyes in this instant; when we look back at the brown creature, it topples forward, landing in the river with the white ball of fluff. In this instant of calm, I rush ahead, leaving Quentin and Gilgamesh to wonder what happened as I brush aside the grasses and head toward the river. Somehow, after falling into the water, the brown thing flipped over, showing the white rodent clenched between two buck-teeth-

No. _No no no no no no no no no_... Anything but this, anyone but him... He didn't do anything to deserve this...

My stomach drops as both are carried to the edge of the world, neither making a single effort to swim away. He's too far away now-there's no way I can reach out to him, and I can't run fast enough to keep the river flowing. I close my eyes at the last second, not wanting to see what would happen, but knowing full well it did.

He's gone. He saved Gilgamesh's life, but he's gone...

Carter lands by Quentin, finally deeming it safe enough to come back to the ground. They're looking at Gilgamesh, making sure he's able to move and that he's not too badly hurt. I'd join them, but I can't feel anything right now. My ankles are jelly and I sink down to my knees and hit the ground with a _thud_ and slam my fists against the dirt. Dust flies up in my mouth, but I don't care; I taste something awful in my mouth but I don't even care about that either. There are tears streaking down my face and I'm quietly moaning like an idiot and my throat is burning, but none of that matters right now.

Night is falling; we have a decision to make-whether we stay outside or invade the privacy of the people resting in that house. I still can't move, either from the cold or the fatigue or the overwhelming emotions, but apparently Gilgamesh can move for the both of us-one moment I remember being able to see my breath outside, the next I find that the dirt has transformed into countless sheets of paper on carpet. It's somewhat warmer in here, but not by much. At least the floor here is a bit more comfortable than the ground outside.

Quentin and Carter, I can't tell whether they really understand what happened out there, but they know at least something's wrong when Bert isn't anywhere to be found. Even Gilgamesh, who's sitting between the statues and in pain after being attacked and dragging me inside the house, wants to go outside to find him, but I have to stop them all from leaving-I don't have the heart to tell them what happened yet. I just unroll my bag and crawl in, hoping that sleep comes sooner than later. Maybe then I'll stop feeling horrible, but I know that's not going to happen any time soon.

The night seems colder than ever.


	7. Chapter Seven: Forest

It's difficult to want to wake up after yesterday. I'm shivering partly because of the cold and partly because of what we all saw-nothing like that should ever happen to anyone, least of all Bert. He was only trying to protect Gilgamesh, and for what? Why did that thing even attack us at all? Is there something here that makes the wildlife more aggressive?

I half-expect a ball of fur to be lying by my stomach, curled up in a ball with buck teeth hidden somewhere among the fluff. Sadly, when I look down to the bag, I see nothing there. It's almost as if someone's slapped me in the face with a cold fish-my cheeks suddenly sting and my throat is constricting and it's getting harder to breathe in this sudden panic attack.

It still hasn't quite settled in-I don't expect it will any time soon.

Regardless, the others are starting to wake. My shirt is stained with tears; I had no idea I was crying through the night. Perhaps the others were listening, maybe feeling something like I do, but if that's the case, they don't show it as easily. Gilgamesh is still nestled between the two statues sitting on the couch, almost blending into the scene himself if not for those huge eyes and the gemstone in his hands. Carter's resting next to Quentin, sitting together to stay warm. A house isn't really a house when half of the roof is missing.

It's strange-at first, I was never concentrating on the sounds, but I can hear everyone breathing around me. Gilgamesh's is the most labored, heavy with fatigue like a sprinter after a race. Not too unusual, considering the attacks he had to deal with yesterday were a bit more than punches and kicks. The other two, they're not quite as loud, but I can tell just from the slight whistling that they're a bit unsure of what's to come. Mine is by far the loudest and the most stressed; my chest feels like it's constricting with every inhale and I'll implode at any moment-

The others, they stare at me and look into my eyes. They know something's been wrong ever since I collapsed in a heap on the ground yesterday. I know there are tears in my eyes and they sting with dust and dirt and everything else but I really don't care at this point and they know I don't. Quentin stands up and walks across the scattered papers, the sheets crinkling and crunching under his webbed feet. I feel his hand on my shoulder, almost as if to say that he understands what's going on even if he really has no idea.

Without warning, something lets off a deep grumble. Carter flinches at the sound, going so far as to leap from the ground and onto one of the statues next to Gilgamesh. Quentin jumps as well until he realizes what the source is and stares down at the sleeping bag-it's my stomach.

The berries from yesterday are completely destroyed. All that's left are some juices and a few skins. Should've seen that coming when I didn't use a bag to collect them. Lucky for us, there are a few plastic bags hiding in a cabinet by the sink next to the refrigerator-

I nearly rip the door off its hinges after our discovery. My stomach rises up to my throat when I see that there's nothing there at all-at least, nothing edible. Somehow, through all of this destruction and chaos, moldy food still exists and people don't. I still can't quite wrap my head around that knowledge. Our only option is to head back to the city of flowers before we continue.

Everything here is just waiting for someone, anyone to return. Even if there's nothing out there at the moment, it's all waiting for us to pass by and bring it back-bit by bit, piece by piece. Why it has to be me that's responsible for all of this, I will never know; as cruel as it is to say this, I'm glad I'm the one that survived and not anyone else, though.

The building still has those broken containers filled with berries. We begin to bag them, making sure that the plastic doesn't tear open from the weight of the fruits. Strange that there's no sign of the small insect from yesterday-perhaps she's sleeping or she's flying back to the hive to tell her brothers and sisters about her find. The others are helping themselves to the harvest while I make sure that we have enough to last us for a few days, a week at the most.

Off in the corner, I spy another barrel, this time with plump red berries inside. These ones look untouched despite their fresh look. I'm not sure why the insect decided to go after the Oran berries more than these-they taste a tiny bit bitter but are filling nonetheless. Besides, food is food, and the others aren't going to complain whether they eat Oran berries or Cheri berries or Bluk berries. It'll give them some other nutrients, too; at least more nutrients than trail mix and nuts could ever give them.

They eat quite loudly. I know berries aren't exactly the crunchiest food, but I can hear Gilgamesh's jaw chomping away on the fruit, savoring the juices as he swallows. Despite the abundance of Oran berries at his disposal, he's not eating very much of anything-perhaps he's not that hungry, but then again, we haven't really had a lot to eat between the five of us before...

As Quentin reaches into the pile of blue globes for another handful, something bursts out from the barrel. It's another one of those insects, except even through the juices we can see that there is no orange mark in the center of its head. The sound of harsh buzzing fills the room, pounding against my head as ten more, maybe a few dozen of these things burst from the deepest recesses of the barrel. Berries fly everywhere as they start to circle around the four of us, attempting to sting at any exposed surface.

Carter goes straight to work, flying with speed and accuracy that I haven't seen from him before. He bats away the pests with his wings, stabbing any of those unfortunate enough to be in his way with his beak. Quentin is busy swatting away any that get close enough to him, eventually resorting to spraying jets of water to bog them down even further. Poor Gilgamesh, though-he's curled up in a ball on the floor, eyes closed and teeth grinding together. I put down the bags and throw myself over his body, just to make sure that nothing happens to him. What happened to him to make him fear things like these? Such a strong creature, yet afraid of such tiny insects like them..

And just like that, the buzzing slows, everything calms down despite the fact that there are husks of chitin and broken wings littering the place now. Carter preens his feathers, plucking bits and pieces of torn insect from under his wings. Quentin, seemingly oblivious to what carnage surrounds him, goes back to eating berries once again. Gilgamesh lifts his head up and looks around, making sure the room is safe for him once more. I don't know how the others can be so dismissive to what they just did, but I feel sick to my stomach looking at the twitching bodies of insects scattered around the room-all they wanted to do was survive, like us...

In the corner we see one of the bugs trying to fly out through the wall. It's really struggling to get away-it seems like one of the wings must be injured. While it's distracted, I sneak behind it and snatch it from the air. It's struggling to get out of my grasp, but I'm stronger despite not having eaten anything for some time. Eventually, it stops thrashing about in my arms, either because it gives up or doesn't have the strength left to fly. I turn it around, just so I can get a good look at its face-

It's the same one from yesterday-orange splotch on her head and everything. Now she looks absolutely frightened, much different from how we found her before. With all of her servants in pieces, she has absolutely no protection from us whatsoever. Still, she doesn't seem like the type who would want to fight us head-on, anyway.

The others are starting to take notice of the insect as well-Gilgamesh is extremely hesitant to get near her despite the fact that I'm holding on to her and she's barely moving. Carter, on the other hand, is staring with beady eyes, a cold look across his face. As much as Quentin would like to stay apathetic, he can't help gazing over toward us, a bit of curiosity in his eye. The poor bug in my arms now, she's starting to shiver in fear as well; a sort of timid humming fills the room, possibly a warning to stay away.

I bend down and pick up the bags filled with berries, trying to find the balance between holding the creature and the food. She starts to wriggle once again, sensing that her treasures are being taken from her, but when she sees me taking a berry from the pile and hold it in front of her face, she takes a tentative nibble and calms down once again. Strange how something as simple as food can soothe something as wild and untamed as these creatures...

I'm not sure what it is-whether I'm still grieving from the sudden loss from yesterday or because of some strange desire to protect this new creature, I keep her in my arms and leave the building. The others, somewhat perplexed by this scene, follow slowly. Quentin follows behind, sucking the excess juices from his fingertips all the while. Carter keeps a wary eye on the group as he flies overhead, seemingly scouting the way but always looking back down to us. Gilgamesh runs to my side, a worried look flashing across his eyes when he looks toward my arms, but I shush him and merely smile, shifting my grip on the yellow bug and holding her in one arm, wrapping the other around the child-thing and gently rubbing my hand on his shoulder.

We head out of the town, staying close to the path that leads back to the house in which we spent the night. My stomach starts doing somersaults as we approach the edge of the creek-I corral the others away from the edge of the water, just in case. There may not be any rodents brimming with electricity around, but I'm still not willing to take any chances with the others. Lucky for us, we come across a somewhat-stable bridge that crosses over the water, so at least we don't have to swim any time soon.

The land is relatively hilly out here past the brook-the ground is not covered in nearly as much grass, and there are no definite paths through the area, but at least we know that the river cuts off access to the west. As we head to the east, cliffs begin to rise from the ground. Knowing full well that I can't climb with all of my gear, much less while holding onto Gilgamesh and the insect, we can't head that way any further. The best we can do now is head to the north and hope for the best.

At the base of a hill, we come to what appears to be the edge of a wooded area. I feel the bark of the trees with my free hand-it's cold to the touch, almost to the point where I feel the warmth in my chest being sucked into the petrified wood. Even the insect in my arms shivers a bit, and she can't even reach the bark. This part looks a bit too thick to cut through, though; I guess we're going to have to find another way in.

We follow the trees around and find an overgrown patch of vines and weeds and shrubs. As much as we'd like to just walk around the place, there are cliffs rising up to our right which we can't climb, trees to our left which we can't walk through. My heart sinks as Quentin looks down toward his feet-maybe he's starting to go through the hell I'm feeling.

We backtrack-there's nowhere else to go but back the way we came anyway. After watching columns shoot up from the ground, we come across a path leading into the trees. Gilgamesh seems a bit apprehensive, but Quentin and Carter continue forward as if nothing else is bothering them. With a reassuring glance down toward the insect and the child-beast, we follow the birds into the darkening forest.

The air slowly swells with the moan of a gentle breeze. I feel the wind through my hair as it lifts the feather skyward and flutters through the trees. I reach out for it but lose sight quickly between the shade of the pillars and the dull skyline in the distance. I'm saddened by the loss of our only possible sign of other life out there, but Bert would be happy that it's gone...

Gilgamesh suddenly tightens his grip on my jacket, his muscles tensing and his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. I look down toward the child-thing and spot a large segmented worm crawling onto his leg, its skin pale like the rest of the world around us. As grossed out by it as we both are, I manage to kick it off of the poor thing's leg. I don't know what sort of adrenaline rush was going through me in that moment, but I think I hit it a bit harder than I meant to. It flies back into a nearby shrub, being swallowed by the foliage in a second-Gilgamesh is just relieved to have that thing off of him.

The trees are stretching higher and higher above us and the shadows are growing longer and longer. I think I'm the only one right now that's afraid of the possibility of having to spend the night out here, alone, in the wilderness. It almost feels as if there are other creatures like that worm, watching us from the trees and the bushes and in the shadows-if the others can feel my apprehension, it's certainly shows right now. Quentin and Gilgamesh are certainly looking behind us right now, making sure nothing's following; Carter's still flying out over the void and returning like nothing's bothering him. I wonder if he used to do this before... before all of this.

Something hits my foot-or rather, I accidentally kick something out from underneath a low-lying bush. Something fleshy rolls out from nowhere, leaving behind bits and pieces of I-don't-want-to-know behind as it comes to a stop in front of us. Beneath the dirt and the bloodstains and the fetid stench-without even having to double-guess ourselves, we know it's dead. That much is obvious... I feel sick to my stomach when I take another peek and see that it's got brown fur and teeth like-

I can't contain it any longer. In the middle of everything and everyone and the nothing, I lose it once more. The others-well, they jump away, that's for sure. Quentin and Gilgamesh look spooked and I'm forced to endure their clinging to my jacket. I'm trying to stop being so damn squeamish, but it's just... it's so soon...

In a feeble attempt to try and take my mind off of what just happened, I look up to find a clearing. In the middle of this patch of land, surrounded by all sorts of trees, is a bush. This plant, unlike the others around us, has a splash of color to it; hanging daintily from one of the stony branches are several bright purple berries, plump with juice. I look to the side and-

There are more of those bodies around the perimeter; some plant-like and wilted, others with patches of fur attached to bits of skin, still others with feathers and twisted gawky legs; none nearly as broken and beaten as the thing I kicked before, but still we know. This is a graveyard. Suddenly I have the feeling that we're being watched from the shadows again...

Only now do I see the ground around the bush is stained a darker color than the rest of the earth; a shiver runs down my spine as I kneel down on the ground, losing my grip on the insect and nearly bringing Gilgamesh down with me. I'm short of breath and I can hear my heart pounding all of a sudden inside my head over everything else. If these corpses are already laid out like this, could this mean that-

A rustling from the bushes around us snaps my attention back to reality. Surrounding us now are creatures of the forest-some smaller creatures with tufts of light fur on floppy ears; some larger insects with prismatic wings and nightmarish iridescent eyes; even a few birds with midnight-black feathers join in the fray. Without any sort of warning, they descend on the bush-leaping over bodies, scratching one another with claws and talons, throwing dust and pollen and foul-tasting spores into the air. Cries of pain ring in my ears, but are soon overtaken by the sounds of the fallen wildlife as they slam against the cold ground.

It's too much; my body freezes at the sight of the bloodshed. Carter, seeing and hearing the commotion, rockets toward the chaos out of nowhere and shoves aside some of the insects harassing the others. Quentin is attempting to drag me away from the carnage, and Gilgamesh is trying his hardest not to keel over as the bugs fly near him. The little yellow creature in my other arm is frantically trying to escape-whether from me or from the danger that the wildlife poses, I can't say for sure.

The wind is blowing against my skin. It's cold and it does nothing to help calm my stomach or my breathing. Carter is still trying to quell the fighting over by the bush, but we don't know why he hasn't come back to us. Quentin and Gilgamesh are still dragging me away bit by bit as I stare slack-jawed at the massacre over a few pieces of fruit. Why can't we help them instead of just leaving them to kill each other?

Even from this distance, I can hear the moans and cries of those fallen. Carter's looking worn out, despite his insistence that he doesn't want to let up his assault. I let out a quiet yelp and place my hand over my mouth as I see my bird fall to the ground from exhaustion. If my legs didn't feel like jelly at this point and I wasn't trying to comfort both Gilgamesh and the insect, I would have gone and grabbed Carter myself. Instead, Quentin calmly walks back toward the bush and drags the bird away from the scene of the carnage. I feel sorry for Quentin, having to function for me instead of the other way around...

Carter comes within view-he looks absolutely spent. There's blood on all parts of his body, bits and pieces of different insects clinging to his talons. Somehow, miraculously, he's not too broken, but he is too tired to fly on his own for now. He perches on my shoulder and it brings back memories from when he was smaller. He's a bit heavier than before, though, and I'm having trouble standing back up-partly due to the weight on my back and shoulders, partly because I can't really feel my legs, partly because I don't really have the use of my arms.

The yellow creature is starting to thrash about again. As much as I want to let her fly around, I'm too afraid that she won't be able to fend for herself if I let her go. Carter, despite the fact that he can't fly for the time being, is keeping a close eye on her anyway. Gilgamesh is doing his best to stay buried in my side, away from the insect as much as possible-I don't blame him at all, especially after everything they saw by that bush. Quentin seems like he's watching out for all of us now, taking over Carter's position as he beckons for me to lead the way.

As we make our way through the forest, we catch glimpses of more of these contested bushes, but we make sure to stay out of their path. We cannot afford to spend any more time trying to fight over a few berries; I don't think I could stand to find the bodies just strewn about a place like that again. My stomach starts turning just thinking about it. We need to get out of this place-it feels wrong. It's watching us, using the other creatures within as eyes and ears.

The trees thin out somewhat as we continue. This seems to be a good sign; the sky above is dimming rather quickly, so it's nice to see that we're approaching a possible exit. I can see the fatigue in everyone-this place, this world wears you down to the soul, grinding what little bit there is to nothing. But I must be strong for the others. I can't let them know how tired and lonely and frightened I am.

We come to a clearing with trees behind us and nothing but plains and grasses ahead. We're out of the woods, but we're also spent. There's little choice in the matter-we set up camp here for the night in the hopes that nothing else comes out of the forest to bother us. Carter hops off my shoulder and begins to preen at his feathers once more, trying his best to get the bits of insect and blood off his body; Quentin and Gilgamesh curl up by my stomach as the insect wriggles her way into my bag. I guess she's either got something against the cold or is used to having someone protecting her. She almost reminds me of a little princess, someone that always has to have her way; if she plans on staying with us, I might as well think of a name for her... Maybe not today, though; let's see whether she flies off first.

In what fading bit of light we have, I look through the indigo sky toward the east. As I stare off into the distance, I remind myself that we just end up losing everything we care about in the end. Sort of a morbid thought to end the day on, but still... today was just a bit too much. We're all trying to sleep, to forget the things we saw today-it's difficult to ignore what's behind us when we can still hear the creatures fighting and killing one another for a bit of food.

My chest grows heavy as I realize that I still miss him. Even the little princess in my sleeping bag doesn't seem to fill the void he left behind.


	8. Chapter Eight: Tomb

There's a quiet breeze that carries voices on the wind as I try to sleep; they speak of loss, of mourning, of death. They tell me I could have saved everyone somehow-I could have prevented this all from happening, it's my fault that I let this whole thing happen at all. I know they're just taunting me; how far I can bend before I break apart completely? I'm not sure which is worse, though: having to stare and confront the silent screams of the blanks or listening to the wind lie to me over and over again...

When I open my eyes, I'm in my bed again-wait, how did I get here? This has to be a dream... I mean, I'm with the others in the middle of the wilderness, right? But it feels so real... Everything's back to where it should be-are those birds chirping outside? I can hear the laughter of the Percival boys outside again-wait, they're not made of stone anymore? And the sunlight-! It's streaming through the windows and there are no clouds where I can see! And the ground, it's there too-green grass and no dust? I must be dreaming, but... I have to see Mother-she'd be downstairs. Making breakfast-haven't had a good breakfast in a long time... I'll have to tell her about this dream and how crazy everything was inside my head and-

The stairs crumble underneath my feet as I lose my footing and begin to fall. I try to grab onto something to keep me from plunging into the darkness, but there's nothing anymore. What happened to everything? It was so sudden-and then there's that laughter! It's taunting me again, beckoning me to fade into the nothing! It's pulling me in over and over and over-

With a yelp, I wake up once more. I'm back on our little floating island; the forest is behind us, the others sleeping somewhat comfortably around me. My breathing is heavy and I can feel my hands trembling in my bag. A cold sweat drips down my face and the back of my neck, and it's only made worse by the fact that I'm shivering... Why does the wind have to blow into my face? And what about the dreams with the void and the falling and the laughter? Why can't I just be left alone?

Gilgamesh and Quentin are still sleeping next to one another by my stomach; Carter's at my back, waking up to preen his feathers once more. I can feel the insect, our new little princess, resting inside the bag where it's nice and warm still. This is our reality, some twisted joke of what once was our world. I still can't fathom how this all changed overnight, but it somehow fell apart... and no one noticed a thing...

My backpack is within reach; I'm feeling somewhat hungry-the others will be waking up soon anyway, there will be time for us all to eat. The bag filled with the berries is a welcome sight, even if I'm craving something a bit more substantial. As soon as I open it, I can feel the others stirring and waking up, still half-asleep but alive.

The bug flies out of my bag and immediately dives into the middle of the pile of berries, almost as if she's trying to reclaim her prize for herself. A few fruits fall over the edge from her impact, but only a few; and I think we've got enough to last us a few days still. I know I shouldn't be thinking this way, but it's something to help take my mind off the dream... Why am I still so cold? Is it because of the wind or the laughter?

As they all eat, I walk around the edge of our little island in the sky, watching intently as the ground forms up again by my feet. I haven't really taken any time to watch it before, but it's almost hypnotic, watching the pieces of the land fuse back to the small path that I've been creating-no, recreating. I can't call any of this _my_ land; it's never been anyone's, really, I'm just making it available for everyone else again... well, everyone else that may still be alive...

There's a buzzing in my ear and I feel something sticky drop against my shoulder. The bug is looking around, trying to see what's happening over here. I bend down and show her that it's just like everything else-it's all gray and dusty and dead. She doesn't care, though, and finds a flower at the edge of the cliffs that reminds me of the ones back in the town before the forest. Even though this one, like the others, is also covered in this gray ash and is stone-like to the touch, she's trying to... well, whatever those insects do to normal flowers. After thinking about it for a bit, Fiona seems like a regal-enough name for a queen like her; she's just too absorbed in her work with the flower to care right now.

I can hear wings rustling behind me: Carter's staring into the woods at some shaking bushes, waiting for something to happen. Quentin looks up just in time to come face to face with another massive insect with iridescent eyes and colorful wings. Its purple body lands on his head, almost like a fuzzy leech flailing wildly about as the poor bird vainly tries to smack the intruder off of his face.

And then, just as quick, there are more-not bugs like the first, but similar creatures that were fighting over the bush from yesterday. They're swarming out of the forest, oblivious to the world around them, homing in toward our position. They know that we have food, and they're hungry. I think it's because Quentin's a messy eater that they're going after him first, but they're starting to attack the others-they've all somewhat instinctively gone over to protect the food.

Carter, despite his injuries and fatigue from yesterday, is giving it everything he's got, throwing himself into the fight. He's whirling and spinning and flapping his wings, knocking the wild things aside with ease. Poor Gilgamesh, though-he's holding the bag as gently as he can, trying to avoid all contact with the bugs and the birds and the thorns. Quentin's able to finally shake the insect off of his face by spraying it with a stream of water. The impact is too much for the bug to handle, and I watch as it plummets over the edge. My stomach-why do I feel sick all the time?-turns at the sight of it falling down to nothing.

Suddenly, there's something in my hand as I feel squeezing around my leg. Looking down toward the ground, Gilgamesh is holding on tight as a few blurs of jet-black start whirling around my head. There's a bag of berries in my hand and I bring it as close as I can without squishing the contents inside. Carter's coming over to help take care of these intruders as Quentin does his best to deal with the ones on the ground. The chitters and grunts and growls of these creatures, it's almost overwhelming to all senses-their cries make my skin crawl and I throw my arms over my head just to silence the noises.

I don't know how long we're ducking down like that. Feels almost like we're never going to stand back up, though-Carter's doing his best to get those things off of us, but it might not be enough. There's a bit of mist brushing against my cheek, though; is Quentin trying to help too, or is this weather playing tricks on my mind again?

Something lands on my back-I don't know what it is, but I don't hesitate to swat at it. There's a hit-my hand brushes against something furry as I feel it flop to the ground. Whatever it is, it kicks up a bit of dust by my feet. Gilgamesh, he sees it and taps it away with his foot. I'm not sure if he's trying to stay close to me or if he's really scared of everything around us, but he's still tentative to do anything right now anyway. Must be the chaos around us, I don't blame him.

Where's the insect-Fiona? There's been no sign of her in all of this confusion. We need to keep together, but if she's not buzzing around in my ear? Could she be hiding under the landmass? Or... I don't want to think about that, she can't be! Not so soon after she joined us... she can't! I'm not going to lose her like Bert!

Somehow, the things attacking us begin to back off. Slowly at first, leaving behind feathers and bits of skin and blood-why am I so happy to see a color other than gray? Gilgamesh still clings to my leg even though our attackers are leaving. Even if they're just attacking us for our food, why are they still retreating? They have numbers over us and they're probably stronger than us right now-wait, why am I thinking like this? How can I think like this at all? What is this world doing to me...?

Fiona's buzzing can be heard over the slight wind that's blowing now. So eerie with this calm after what just happened here. Gilgamesh's grip loosens around my leg and I can feel the blood returning to my limb, prickling sensation rising through my foot up to my knee. Quentin, he's looking no worse for the wear, but Carter... The bird, he's overdone it again-lying in a heap on the ground, feathers askew, just... broken.

He's still breathing, barely. I have to carry him-no way he's going to fly like this. I know he's not going to like being carried but it's just what needs to happen to avoid hurting himself any more. No way that anyone else can really lead the way besides me now; Quentin and Gilgamesh can't fly and Fiona's too tiny to really do all that much for us anyway. I'm not sure how, but I think she's angry at me for ignoring her with everything happening so suddenly.

Still, most of the berries are intact-good sign that we might be able to keep moving forward after all. Not like we'd have much of a choice going back anyway, what with the creatures waiting for another chance to jump out and try to steal our food. Especially with Carter in as bad of shape as he is, we can't risk another attack like that-Quentin's tired from helping Carter, Gilgamesh freezes up whenever he catches a glimpse of an insect, and Fiona's... she's just doing her own thing, I guess.

But we have to keep pushing ahead. Only way to go even if we don't know what to expect when we get there. The land looks sort of withered out here-even more so than what I remember seeing before. Grass is just falling apart as we walk by, not even having to step on it as the breeze we make splinters the blades with no effort. I pass over a few chunks of stone scattered on the ground as it forms around me-lip's between my teeth without me thinking, biting down on it to stop from crying out and scaring everyone.

Walk along the edge of the land-it's impossible to do that, really, but somehow I'm able to get close. There's a slope leading down to what seems like a river basin. I push the others back behind me, keeping them close; after what happened the last time we came to a river, I'm taking no chances. Fiona stares at me, somewhat confused at why I'm so scared of a little piece of land... Bert couldn't fly like she can...

Carter's wriggling around in my arms, trying to free himself so he can try to fly around-I know he's not going to be able without a full night's rest, but it's not stopping him from trying anyway. Gilgamesh's eyes grow wide as I let go of his hand to comfort the bird, but I guess he understands that Carter's health is at stake. Strange how he's already grown to not hate him as much in these last few days... Maybe it's because we haven't tried to kill him; then again, we haven't tried to kill anyone we've met thus far, but Gilgamesh has been the most docile of everything we've met.

River's turning, blocking our path now. Only way to go is to follow it down until we can get across somehow. Soon there's an old wooden bridge heading over the basin-a few fishermen are there minding their own business, looking for the big one that will never bite the line. Eerie that the whistling of the wind is more prominent here than the sound of the thin trickle running under the planks. Why is it that this stream has so little water but the one by the town of flowers was running at full speed?

Quentin's starting to lag behind me now-of course, I don't blame him; he's been through just as much as Carter and looks just exhausted. Not even midday and already they look like they could go for another rest. As long as we stay together and keep moving away from the forest, I think we're safe from anything that tries to attack us. Although... guess it doesn't matter all that much about being safe when one of your guardians is on the brink of death, does it?

Pinching a berry between two fingers, feeding the bird as he's trying to settle down. Really wants to get up and start moving around again, but I have to keep him close. He tries anything reckless and he might fall off the edge of the world like Bert... Just thinking about it, I pull him tighter against my chest and focus on really making sure he's being fed. Might not do him much good in the long run, but at least he'll have a full belly for a little while...

The ground feels solid under my feet again-not so much a shell of the world, but more of concrete. Grasses stop leading the way; instead, there's a dark-gray path covered in ash. The air is thick with the stuff: I have to cover my face with part of my hoodie to breathe. I need to really find a scarf or something to cover my mouth before I start coughing again like before. I look back to check up on the others-we're leaving footprints behind like with fresh-fallen snow. Reminds me of how far away from normal we are.

We're in another small city now, that's for certain. Remnants of buildings and piles of rubble and twisted metal fence posts are there to welcome us. An old faded sign, paper ripping and peeling off of the woodwork, lies at my feet as the ground regenerates. If I squint, I can make out one word: Eterna. That letter from the city of flowers-didn't it mention something about this place?

We wander through the empty streets, the only sound we hear the echoes of muted footsteps. The ground keeps forming ahead of us: lampposts sprout from the pavement and reach to the sky, weakly lighting a path to nowhere. There are empty yards with pieces of rubble torn from house faces strewn about in the lawn-if there's anyone inside, we can't see them from here. Not that I want to. Quentin and Gilgamesh and Fiona, they're all following close behind. They don't seem as surprised as I am about all this-not used to coming into cities much anyway, I guess.

Now there's grass again as we keep following the street-a strip of the stuff kept nice and neat like someone's been cutting it. There's a cobblestone trail leading somewhere off to the side, might as well see what's there while we have the chance. A few saplings border the path and already I've got a bad feeling. Another grove of trees stretching up to the gray sky ahead of us as the cobblestone forms a square around a solid stone pedestal with a statue of... something standing on four legs and staring back toward the city. It's massive, a monument to some creature, maybe dedicated to protecting the people from some major disaster. There's a plaque near the petrified creature, but the writing's too worn and faded to make out anything. Funny, it's not doing a very good job at guarding anything anymore, but it looks like this survived without a scratch.

Heading back to the path, hoping to see something different than the normal city-well, _normal_ in this new sense. Most of everything is destroyed; sometimes we can even see a corner of the foundation of a house or a building beneath piles of shattered brick and snapped timber. What really could have caused all of this destruction? How could any of this have happened at all?

As we continue pushing forward despite our fatigue and the bird constantly shifting in my arms, there's another side-street to explore. Nothing better to do than to check it out-after all, it's not like anyone's going to jump out from the shadows. This place is silent like a graveyard, nothing but the wind rustling the leaves on the trees from the monument behind us. Sort of an eerie feeling, reminds me of the forest we had to fight through...

Up ahead is a small metal gate, twisted off of its hinges and laying on the concrete ahead. There's a keypad off to the side-some sort of gated community or something. Too bad it's useless now. It groans as I push what's left of it out of the way to clear a path forward. Gilgamesh looks up at me, somewhat worried about what we may find in this place. Can't be anything worse than anything we've encountered in the past, but I've been wrong before.

There's a broken fountain in the plaza, something that's supposed to be large and majestic to show off wealth. Doesn't mean anything anymore if half of it's fallen and shattered into rubble. Behind that still, a wall of steel begins to form from the nothing, rooting itself into the ground. It's taller than anything else we've seen in this city so far, at least four stories or so. Why is such a large building located in such a place where the biggest structure so far is a statue that seems to have gotten through this ordeal without taking any damage?

Doors form in the steel, dented and beaten from debris slamming into them at some point before our arrival. The others seem cautious about this place, somewhat nervous about entering a building that tries too hard to stand out against everything else. It's what draws me closer, to be honest-even if I'm somewhat nervous about entering myself.

To my surprise, they all follow me inside. Checkered tile forms under our feet as a few bronze lamps stand in the darkening corners. This place seems like some sort of apartment complex-well, if not for the glass littering the floor and the destroyed staircase leading upwards and the stone-faced receptionist sitting behind the front desk staring blankly at an empty screen. I brush aside as much debris as I can with my foot to clear a path to the counter-

My foot jostles a loose tile out of place and it clatters against the floor before falling over the edge. There's a staircase leading down into a sort of basement area. Now I remember-that note from the city of flowers, it had mentioned something about a base somewhere in the city. Perhaps there are some other people down below, waiting for us to meet them at the end of the world after all. Would be nice to talk with someone again...

Stairs lead down to a small open room-shouldn't be open, I know, but the back wall isn't formed yet. It's the only source of light we have right now, so I'm staying away from there for now. The floor and walls are made of the same stuff as the outside and seem to be holding up just fine. A pair of bulbs hang from the ceiling, but I don't think they're going to be lighting up anything any time soon. Off to one side of this new room is an empty bed with blankets and a pillow. Quentin and Gilgamesh stare at it as I lay Carter atop the mattress. Seems like a good place to take a nap-

Something clatters behind us-I nearly jump out of my skin as I whirl around; it's only Fiona buzzing around a desk on the opposite side of the room. There's someone sitting in a chair there; I'm surprised our entrance didn't even faze her, considering how loud I thought we were. It looks like this person's staring at something in her hand. As I take a few steps closer, something feels off-maybe it's because I'm expecting someone else to be here, but deep down I know it's going to be the same as it's always been.

She-yes, when I look at the stone, I can tell this person is a woman-she's just like the others after all, closing her eyes as if she's trying to hold back tears, a look of defeat across her face. In her cold fist is a scrap of paper fluttering weakly in the breeze. Reaching over her arm, I can hold the note steady and read the writing on it:

_To my June:_

Everything looks like it's going to get better for us! Shortly after arriving in Veilstone, I was offered a job helping research alternative energy for a new up-and-coming company. Synergy is supposed to grow rapidly within the next few years, considering the potential for growth in the industry. Eventually, our CEO believes that every household will have access to affordable, clean, sustainable energy. Realistically, I think we could reach that goal within ten years' time, given the amount of manpower that we have. At least I have a stable job now-I know you worried about me not being able to find work anywhere in the big city.

Couldn't be better, though! The people here are friendly and really make you feel at home. I do miss you terribly, though. Some day, when money's not so tight, I'm going to buy a big spacious apartment in one of those fancy high-rises near the center. Really, the view from up on the higher floors is phenomenal! Especially during sunset-you'd find it absolutely romantic, I know you would!

Also, before I forget, I sent you a little extra something; don't worry, one of the higher-ups at Synergy gave it to me, so I didn't have to pay a cent! Do wear it if you decide to come to Veilstone and visit-you know where you can come find me.

Yours forever, Samuel

Next to her other hand is a small black box, like something I would find at a jewelry store. My arms tremble as I reach out and pick it up, bringing it close to my face to catch a glimpse of this object in the fading light. Inside is a small golden ring and a place for a gemstone-why it doesn't already have one, I have no idea, but I'm already on the verge of collapse after trying to take it all in. I place the box back on the table, right where she can see it. She should know that I'm not a thief and just need a place to rest for the day.

This Veilstone place-it's quite a walk from here. On the other side of the mountains-well, if there were any mountains left. They'll probably rise again when I bring the others along. I'm not sure we can continue like this, though; Carter needs a bit of time to rest and Quentin and Gilgamesh look kind of spooked still. Fiona's off doing her own thing, but she comes back every so often looking for those berries. I guess she can still smell them through the plastic.

I roll out my bag and lie down on the cold floor. Somewhat early to be thinking about going to bed, but after what we've been through today, I'm sure the others appreciate the rest too. The bit of light that shines into the room gives a bit of warmth before completely fading out.

Goodnight, June... Feels strange saying that to another person again...


End file.
